Caffrey
by 2Old4This2
Summary: This takes place very shortly after the final scene of Countdown. Since it has grown since I began, I'm adding a little more explanation. It includes almost all the canon characters and is what I currently see as the resolution midseason cliffhanger.
1. Chapter 1

**Caffrey**

A _White Collar_ Fan Fiction

**Disclaimer:** _White Collar_ and its characters are the property of Jeff Eastin and the USA Network. I'm just using them for fun.

Pushing the door shut with her hip, Sara Ellis drops the heavy box of case files onto the small table in the entrance to her apartment. Turning to lock the door, she reaches blindly behind her to drop her purse on the same table. The bag hits the edge and tumbles to the floor, spilling it's contents onto the gray slate tiles.

"Damn!" The single word echoes hollowly in the empty apartment. She stoops down to retrieve her belongings: wallet, day planner, keys, lipstick... Her hand closes on a slender leather case. She hesitates for a moment, her hand unmoving. Why is this still in her purse? She swallows once, twice, then stands and throws the item fiercely across the room. The case bursts open as it collides with the opposite wall, spilling slender silver tools on the floor where they land helter-skelter, like pick-up sticks.

Sara bursts into tears.

"Damn him, damn him, damn him!" Angry sobs catch in her throat as she carelessly shoves the lock picks back into their case. Abandoning the item to a shelf in the book case, Sara straightens her shoulders and wipes tears from her face. She has work to do; this i_s_ no time for a childish tantrum. That's all this is, she tells herself, pique at allowing herself to be conned by one of the best, nothing more.

After depositing the file box on the low table in front of her sofa, she goes into her kitchen in search of a drink. Taking a wine glass from the cupboard she reaches for the bottle of Syrah standing on the counter. Her hand hesitates as she touches the cool green glass. This is the wine she bought for the night she and Neal were going to christen her new, remodeled apartment. The apartment she bought because, well, because it was within the two-mile radius of Neal's tracking anklet. God, what a fool she'd been! What a fool she was still being, as she realizes her hand is caressing the bottle.

Shoving the wine to a remote corner, she exchanges the wine glass for a tumbler she fills with ice and scotch. A much better choice, she acknowledges, for someone who needs to concentrate on the present and the future, not a past already colored rose by romantic memories. Those golden moments are all lies, she reminds herself, perpetrated by a man who's life is one huge lie. Damn you, Caffrey, she thinks, for sucking me in. And shame on you, Sara Ellis, for allowing yourself to be lied to.

It is late evening before she looks up from the files spread around her on sofa, chair and floor. The scotch has taken the edge off her anger and leaves her feeling almost mellow. Exhaustion loosens the tight knot of hurt in her chest. No, those moments with Neal were not all lies, she realizes. She remembers the times that were real. The times they laughed together and conned together. She laughs aloud at some of the things they did: the extravagant shopping spree to catch the hacker, the seven-man con to catch Julian Larrsen. She remembers other times, too, when they were alone together, when his hands, his beautiful artist's hands, moved along her body...

She loves him, Sara realizes. He might even love her back. But Caffrey is Caffrey. He's crossing a line she won't cross, a line she can't cross, because once it is crossed, there is no coming back. She smiles sadly, wishing him safe, but not wishing him different. If he were different, he wouldn't be Caffrey.

The warble of her phone startles her out of her reverie. It is the land line, which she hardly ever uses. Then it occurs to her that her cell phone is turned off. It must be work, she assumes, though she can't see anyone from Sterling Bosch calling at this late hour.

"Sara Ellis" she says into the instrument.

"Sara," the familiar voice answers.

"Caffrey, I don't want..."

"Sara, no, don't hang up. Please!" The tension in his voice stops her before she can sever the connection.

"Sara." He says her name again, as if to hold her still. "Keller took Elizabeth. He kidnapped El." His voice is filled with sorrow and guilt. "Peter needs you." A pause, a breath. "I need you."

The connection is barely broken before she is out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you everyone for your wonderful response to my very first fanfic. I had every intention of making this a one-shot but enough people asked for more so I felt encouraged to continue. A quick thanks to my friend and copy editor Kathy who can make English grammar make sense._

**Caffrey –** Part 2

"People can change." _Neal to Peter in __Countermeasures_

The sheer number of law enforcement personnel filling the normally quiet Brooklyn street startles Sara as she walks toward the Burke's house. She realizes that it shouldn't; the wife of a Federal agent has been taken. That's enough to cause even New York's multiple law enforcement agencies to work together. They always pull together for one of their own.

She bullies her way from the corner where the taxi leaves her, telling half truths and outright lies to gain access to the Burke house. The cordon around the actual crime scene seems impenetrable, and she stops, unsure of how to continue. Yellow crime scene tape flutters slowly in the breeze as it blocks access to the front steps. ERT technicians carefully inspect the ground; one dusts the door handle looking for prints. It is all good police work, and frighteningly wrong.

A slender, familiar figure slips from the shadow next to the front doorway.

"Sara!" Her heart tightens uncomfortably as she sees his face, pale and wary, illumined by the street light behind her.

Caffrey.

Neal.

He stops several feet in front of her, looking as if he would like to embrace her, hand briefly extended, but uncertain if his touch is welcome. They face each other on the small patch of lawn. Sara isn't certain if his touch is welcome either. She decides to insulate her fragile feelings behind her business demeanor, holding her bag in front of herself as a physical barrier. His hand drops to his side.

"What's going on Caffrey?" she asks, watching him carefully, no emotion allowed.

"This is because of the treasure." Neal's words spill out rapidly, like pulling the bandage off a deep wound. "Keller saw the video feed. He wants the treasure in exchange for Elizabeth. He took her right from their kitchen." His breath comes quick and slightly labored, like he's just finished a marathon. Maybe he has, Sara ponders, at least in his own mind.

"Do they know if she's still alive?" Sara's voice stays calm and professional, even while she dreads the answer. Her hand betrays her emotions, shaking slightly as she pushes a strand of auburn hair off her face.

"Witnesses saw the van. She was alive then." Neal's face pales a little more, his feet shifting slightly in the damp grass. Sara is surprised the consummate conman isn't in better control of his face and form.

This man is a stranger to Sara. The Caffrey she knows is always in control. She wants to reach out, help him through this, but she can't. Not now, not when Peter and Elizabeth need her to be cool and in control.

"Has anyone contacted Peter with demands?" Her voice quavers just a little as she asks. This is personal for her too. Peter and Elizabeth have become good friends of hers in the past few months. Ever since she and Neal became ... what? No, it is best to leave that question alone and focus only on what needs to be done.

"Keller hasn't made contact yet." Sara looks across Neal's shoulder as Diana answers her question, stepping into the pool of light. Neal is startled by the agent's proximity, she observes. He really is off. She wonders if it is guilt for the tragedy he's caused, or the guilt that comes when you realize you've been caught.

"How's Peter doing?" Sara asks. She already has a pretty good idea of how he's doing, but asks in order to make eye contact with Diana. If looks could kill, Diana would already have killed Neal.

"He's angry, angrier than I've ever seen," is the flat reply. "And he's devastated." Diana continues to pillory Neal with her eyes. Guilt forces his eyes down and away.

"Why are you here, Sara?" Diana continues in the same unemotional voice. She won't take her eyes from Neal. Sara wonders if it's the agent's job to watch him.

"I heard what happened," she stumbles, taken aback by Diana's brusque manner. "I came to help. I'll do whatever I can. Peter and Elizabeth are my friends."

Agents and police continue to flow around the Burke's home, ignoring the speakers, intent on finding any piece of evidence that might lead them to Matthew Keller, and more importantly, Elizabeth Burke. Special Agent Jones, however, heads directly toward them, notebook in hand.

"Sara." Clinton nods abstractedly at her, delivering his message to his partner.

"Diana, you need to come back in for a briefing." He turns back to the house, pointedly refusing to acknowledge Neal Caffrey's existence. Neal stands immobile and mute. Sara finds she is empathetic to Neal's feelings; she wants to help him through this pain. Stop, she tells herself sharply. Caffrey's brought this down on his own head; let him pay the price.

Diana is halfway back to the house when she stops and turns around.

"Neal," she begins coldly, "there is only one thing you can do to make any of this right. You have to turn over the damn treasure!" Her voice is hard and angry.

Neal lifts his head and meets Diana's look straight on. "I can't," he responds softly. He continues before her rage takes voice. "Diana, I don't have it. I don't even know where it is. Not anymore."

Sara hears a sudden rushing in her head. Anger and disbelief vie for position in her beleaguered brain. She knows he has it. He has told her as much. After all that has happened, all the damage that has been done, Caffrey the thief is still unwilling to part with the goods! The shock is so great she fears she is swaying as she stands. Her hands clench tightly into angry fists. How could she have been so wrong about this man?

Her ears seem to clear as Neal continues. "Mozzie has the treasure. I'm sure he's gone by now."

There is dead silence.

"Mozzie?" Diana breaks the stillness with her question.

Neal looks straight back at her. "He gave me an ultimatum. Leave with him and the treasure, or give it up and stay."

Sara finds she has forgotten to breathe as she watches him. Neal locks his eyes on her face. Those sapphire eyes, which were flat and opaque until this moment, flash with a bright, almost defiant spark.

"I chose to stay."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to all of you who have read thus far and encouraged me to continue. This story has become much more than I ever thought it could. I wish I could respond to each of you individually but there is only so much time. After all there's writing to do and work to go to. Have to pay for the dog food, cat food and Internet connection somehow._

**Caffrey** – Part 3

"You and Peter – Enjoy it while it lasts" _Mozzie to Neal_ in The Dentist of Detroit

"I chose to stay." Neal's whole demeanor changes with this declaration, though challenge might better describe it, Sara thinks, watching him carefully. He stands taller now, she notes. His shoulders are thrown back. The bright spark in his eyes signals determination, not mischief – the set of his mouth indicates success is the only outcome he will accept.

She wonders why he needed to tell her, especially her, of his decision before he could move forward. Is she so important to him? Sara can't, won't, address that thorny problem now; she doesn't dare travel down that road. She does admit to herself, however, that whatever heavy thing was weighing on her lifted when he spoke the words.

"Neal, have you reached Mozzie? Have you even tried?" Sara wonders that Diana hasn't seen Neal's transformation. She still treats him as the villain in this intimate melodrama. The crime-fighting world ebbs and flows around them: evidence recovery technicians, police, FBI agents, but these four remain still in their pool of light.

"Diana, of course I have!" Neal is offended at the implication. "I've tried all of his phones." Sara smiles inwardly at the plural, "They're either turned off or he's not answering. I don't think he's going to talk to me."

"I guess he's a little upset with you." Jones' easy summation releases a little of the tension that surrounds them like a summer storm.

"I've burned a bridge." There's just a hint of sadness in Neal's steely tone. He risks another look at Sara; she can see the loneliness in his eyes. She begins to realize how much this situation is costing him.

"Does Peter know any of this?" Diana asks briskly, her dark eyes hard as agate. "We're the FBI, we can find one little weasel. I don't care how clever he thinks he is."

"You need to tell him. Tell Peter." Neal reveals his discomfort, looking down, shuffling his feet in the damp grass. "He, uh, isn't listening to me right now."

No one says anything. The sounds of the city swirl around them unnoticed.

"Berrigan! Jones! Get in here now." Hughes' imperious two finger summons seems comfortingly familiar but incongruous as it issues from the Burkes' front steps, not the 21st floor or the Federal Building. The two agents hurry up the walk.

"Caffrey, keep trying to reach Mozzie." Diana says quickly over her shoulder. "I'll talk to Peter." Is there a chink in her armor of animosity? Neal thinks there may be one; he hopes there may be one.

Sara and Neal stand alone in the night.

"I'm glad you're here." Neal says.

"I'm glad _you're_ here." Sara replies. Awkwardness fills the space between them. Sara shifts her bag from one shoulder to the other. "Neal, you called me. What can I do to help?"

Neal looks at the Burke house behind him. He takes a deep breath. "You're one of the reasons I chose to stay."

Sara's heart beats faster, lighter, than it has in weeks. There isn't time for what she's feeling now, she tells herself. There's only time for Peter and Elizabeth. "Neal, how do we find Mozzie? Or Keller?"

There is no response from Neal, just his blue gaze meeting her hazel one.

"Caffrey, you need to focus. You know these people. Where can we look? How should we look?" Her brusk, business like manner creates the desired effect.

"There are certain places Keller is comfortable with, certain people he's likely to work with in a situation like this. We should start there." Neal starts back to the house "I'll tell Peter," he stumbles on the name, but forges ahead. "I'll tell Jones and Diana. The FBI should start there." He pauses at the base of the steps. "I know a few others to ask." He shuts his eyes briefly. "We really need Mozzie."

Sara joins him at the steps. "I can trace his phone's GPS." she offers.

"Not Mozzie's," is the certain reply.

"I'll call him. He seems to like me. Maybe he'll answer."

Neal's derisive look says it all.

"So, who's call will he take?" Sara doesn't like to be without options.

"Elizabeth's."

The front door opens and Hughes' rigid form appears. "Caffrey, get in here now."

No double finger point, just the peremptory summons.

Neal hurries up the steps and inside the house. Sara follows behind, slipping inside before the door is shut. She shouldn't be here; she had no reason to be here. But she's in and no one seems inclined to chase her out.

The house is chaos. There are more people inside than Sara would have thought possible. It's like some sort of magician's box, with more room within than without. The entire White Collar group is in attendance, along with agents from Missing Persons and Violent Crimes. Most are gathered in the living/dining area, the overflow trailing up the stairs. The kitchen is cordoned off; it is the scene of the crime after all. Peter is in the living room, as far away from the kitchen as he can be kept, flanked protectively by Jones and Berrigan. He has aged 10 years, Sara thinks, so different from the last time she was in this house, such a short time ago, when everything seemed warm and hopeful.

"Listen up everybody!" Reese Hughes voice booms through the small house as he begins his briefing. It is mostly information Sara already knows, about when and how Elizabeth was taken and by whom. The Nazi contraband, once Peter's best kept secret is now public knowledge. Information on Keller is handed out to the listeners, as is information on Mozzie, as much information as they have on the little con, at any rate.

Hughes directs Caffrey to fill in the waiting agents on the theft of the treasure and his knowledge of Keller and Mozzie. He supplies details in a flat, unemotional tone. Very professional, Sara thinks, and lacking in the nuances she expects from him. Her eyes narrow. Things are definitely missing from what he's telling the FBI. He's planning something.

Hughes dismisses the waiting agents to their assignments. The gathered group disperses. Hughes hasn't noted Neal's omissions, but Peter has. He threads his way through groups of conversing agents, intent on confronting Caffrey, the look on his face leaving little doubt as to how this conversation will go.

As Neal watches his friend approaching, he flicks his eyes toward Sara and tilts his head in a tiny _come here_ motion. She slips easily through the throng of agents and stops in front of him. He grabs her arm with one hand, giving it a soft caress while his other hand presses something small and rectangular into her hand. "Take this," he whispers in her ear. He nudges her towards the back door as he squares his shoulders to meet his friend.

Sara slips unnoticed onto the Burke's patio, glancing down at the item in her hand. It is a cell phone. She unlocks it curiously, wondering at it's importance. As the display lights, she realizes it is Elizabeth's phone. A knowing smile lifts the corner's of her mouth as she slips further from the door into the shadows of the night, scrolling down the contacts for the one she needs.

With Sara safely outside, away from curious onlookers, Neal makes eye contact with Peter Burke. This is the first time he has done so since he arrived at the Burke house and the combination of despair and fury in his friend's eyes causes physical pain somewhere deep within. Neal knows this isn't the time for pain, guilt, or self-recrimination, so he squares his shoulders and schools his features in the face of the expected onslaught.

Neal feels that Peter towers over him, even though their actual difference in height is only a few inches. Is it Peter's righteous anger that makes him taller, or Neal's self-loathing which makes him smaller? He acknowledges to himself that it doesn't really matter. What is done is well and truly done. What he needs now is to repair the damage. He's not sure he can ever make it right, ever again.

"Neal, you did this." Peter's voice is cold with fury, yet it trembles with fear for Elizabeth. "You couldn't let it go. You couldn't do the right thing. You and your little friend took it all." He pauses for breath and composure, then continues, the volume of his voice increasing. "You played me. You conned me. Me, and Diana, Jones, even Sara. And Elizabeth." Peter's voice chokes off. He shuts his eyes, rubbing his hand over his face. Inhales. Exhales. "Keller took her. From our home. He's a killer, we both know that. And we both know what he wants. The FBI can look for her, but you have the key Neal. You have the treasure"

Peter leans in, his face only inches from Neal's. Diana steps up close behind him and Neal isn't sure if she is there to restrain Peter if he becomes violent or to help Peter pummel him.

"El is the one innocent in all of this, Neal." Peter's voice is low and dangerous, but Neal does not back away. "Is it in you – anywhere – to do one right thing? For her?" Peter doesn't move, doesn't breathe. He remains still, statue-like, waiting for an answer.

Neal takes a fortifying breath. "Peter, you have to believe me, this one time." He holds up his hand to forestall Peter's incredulous, caustic response. "This one time," he repeats, "you have to believe that I will do the right thing. I will do anything to bring Elizabeth safely back." The blue eyes looking up to meet the brown ones are completely open. This one time they are completely without guile or deceit.

Seconds pass.

"Where is the art?" Peter asks. His voice has lost a small amount of its fury.

"I honestly don't know."

"Caffrey ..."

"Mozzie is gone." Neal reveals none of his pain to Peter, he answers almost conversationally. "He has the art. He may already be gone with it. I chose not to go." Again Neal makes his declaration. "I chose to stay."

Peter blinks, startled. Then "What are you doing to find him?"

Neal casts his eyes downward for a moment, then looks back up. "I ..." he begins helplessly.

At that moment, the backdoor bursts open and Sara rushes in. Excitement and hope play across her features.

"I reached Mozzie!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Caffrey** – Part 4

"Mozzie's a lot of things – but he isn't bad"

_Neal to Peter in The Dentist of Detroit_

"Give it up, already. You made your decision, now live with it!" Mozzie addresses the vacant space to his right where his one functional cell phone rests on a packing crate. Two other phones are turned off – packed in his duffel along with a change of clothes, his silk pajamas, and 'Bob's' passport. The forger who created the passport had done excellent work, but had felt the need to tell Mozzie that he didn't like Bob. Somehow, Mozzie finds he isn't too fond of Bob, either. He isn't quite sure why.

The sound of a gong resonating from the phone indicates a new voice-mail message. Mozzie has no interest in the message. He has too much packing to do, and he doesn't care whatever it is Neal Caffrey has to say to him. Neal made the choice; Neal broke the tie. If he is to be completely honest with himself, which right now Mozzie is choosing not to be, his feelings are hurt. He never believed he would be traveling to his temperate zone island by himself. But there it is, and now is not the time to worry about it.

An hour later, Mozzie nails the last crate shut. With a sigh, two parts energized, one part weary, he surveys the scene in front of him. It's ready to go, all of it. He just needs to contact Brenner for the pick-up. He's uncomfortable using Brenner but realizes he doesn't have a choice. It isn't that he doesn't trust the man; he's used him before with excellent results. It's just that Brenner isn't Neal. There isn't anyone he trusts the way he trusts Neal. Except that he doesn't trust Neal. Not anymore. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. This situation is muddying his _qi._

His life-force cleared by several cleansing breaths, he reaches for his phone to make the call. As his hand closes around the instrument it springs to life. If this is Neal again ... but it's not, the display shows it's Mrs. Suit. Mozzie stands frozen, unsure whether he should answer or not. Could this be a trick? Certainly it could; but of them all, Elizabeth Burke is the one person who is always honest and direct with him, a quality he can only respect. He activates the accept button and and puts the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Mozzie? Thank God! We've been trying to … "

"No! No! NO! No tricks!" He reacts instinctively. "This is low. I can't believe Mrs. Suit would let our friendship be used like this." Mozzie wonders if they have a way to trace this call. "You can't trace this. Besides I'm hanging up."

"Mozzie, NO!" There is something about the cry on the other end of the phone that makes him pause. Sara Ellis doesn't react this way.

"Mozzie, are you still there?" The question is desperate, pleading.

"I'll listen for 30 seconds and not one second longer."

"Keller took Elizabeth, right from their house, maybe five hours ago." Mozzie feels right as it was happening. He wants the art. He knows you and Neal have it."

Mrs. Suit, no!

"Is she dead?"

"Witnesses saw her in a van. She was alive when they took off." Sara's voice softens as she continues; she senses the distress at the other end of the phone. "Moz, she's still alive. She has to be."

"Where's Neal?" Mozzie's surprised at how much this matter to him – it was Neal who left, after all.

"He's in the house with the FBI; I'm out in back." She doesn't need to say which house. "He slipped me the phone, hoping you'd answer when you saw the i.d."

Mozzie shuts his eyes, concentrating on what must be done. "There are things he needs to do, people he needs to contact. There's a limited amount of time."

"He knows that." Sara doesn't play the guilt card; there is already more guilt than is helpful circulating around this mess. She goes with the simple truth. "He needs you, Mozzie."

Mozzie surveys the crates of treasure surrounding him. Priceless works stolen, not only by the Nazis but by him as well. And how many times had those works of art been stolen before they were taken by the Third Reich? He wonders if it's karma that's brought everyone to this juncture in time. There's probably no good answer for that, he realizes.

"Meet me by the fountain in Madison Square Park in three hours," he directs. "Come alone."

"Three hours," Sara confirms shortly.

Mozzie wonders if three hours gives him enough time to do what he needs to do.

OoOoo

"I reached Mozzie!"

Neal immediatley snaps into motion.

"Caffrey, what the … ?" Sara hisses as Neal grabs her arm and pulls her, hard, away from listening FBI agents.

"Keep your voice down. He steers her into a far corner of the dining room, still holding her arm.

"What is your problem?" Sara angrily pulls herself angrily out of his grasp. Her temper is up. She's had no sleep, very little coffee, and an incalculable amount of stress during this long night and doesn't see the reason for subterfuge.

"We can't let everyone … " Neal looks around the crowded house for emphasis, "know about Mozzie. If the FBI goes in with guns blazing he'll disappear and we need him now."

"I don't see why we can't just arrest him." Diana's angry voice startles Sara. She looks up at the people gathered around her and Neal: Peter, Diana and Jones. It's Burke's Seven all over again. Minus two. Tension and sadness jockey for position in her weary heart.

"Where is he Sara?" Peter's voice is calm now, almost detached, but the look in his eyes remains devastated. She wonders if she will ever be able to forget the amount of pain reflected in his dark eyes.

"He didn't tell me where he was. He wants me to meet him in Madison Square Park. He has things he needs to do. I'm supposed to meet him at the fountain in three," she pauses to check the time, "well, two-and-a-half hours now." She meets Peter's eyes dead on. "He told me to come alone. I'm going to meet him."

This simple declaration creates a litany of responses.

"Does he really think we're going to let him get away with this?"

"We can have agents around the whole place; he'll never know."

"Sara, thank you." Peter's simple reply stops Jones and Diana dead.

Diana slips around to face Peter. "Boss, you can't be serious!" Every fiber of her body vibrates with disbelief.

"Mozzie has the art. And he has the information we need about Keller." The other two FBI agents look at him with a combination of shock and incomprehension. Neal just nods in agreement.

"Peter's right, and if Sara is the one he chooses to trust, she has to be the one to go." Neal looks carefully at Sara, willing her to understand what follows. "But you can't go by yourself." He wants to grab her and shake her and hold onto her and not let her go. He has damaged so much with his need, his obsession with the big score. His broken friendship with Peter, his broken friendship with Mozzie, and now Elizabeth; all these weigh heavy on him. If he causes anyone else he cares for more pain, more hurt, he doesn't know if he will be able to survive it. He breathes in deeply, looking at the agents setting up surveillance and monitoring equipment. He sees others consulting a map of Manhattan, suggesting possible locations for Keller. He exhales. None of this will find Keller or get Elizabeth back. They need Mozzie.

"Sara, it's dangerous." Maybe she will see reason.

She rolls her eyes in response. "Neal, it's Mozzie. I'm not worried."

"It's not Mozzie I'm worried about, it's who might be watching him." So much for that, Neal thinks.

"If you can't find him," Diana asks reasonably, "who else do you think can?"

"It's not a risk I want to take."

Sara turns on him, her hazel eyes hard. "Neal, it's not your decision. The decision and the risk are both mine. I've decided to take the risk." Her spine stiffens with intent.

Neal's eyes are just as hard as Sara's. Sensing an argument there isn't time for, Peter intervenes.

"Neal's right, Sara. It's dangerous to go by yourself. Someone should go with you." Peter's heart is heavy with the thought of El in danger at Keller's hands, and the thought of Sara offering to risk the same thing weighs it down more.

Sara starts to speak but Neal interrupts before she has the chance. "I'll go with her."

"So how's that gonna work, Caffrey? You aren't allowed to carry a weapon and you're not exactly known for your martial arts skills." Diana is tired and frustrated, too.

"Neal, he said to come alone. This is too important." Sara is oddly warmed by Neal's concern. She's always known he's not a fighter, but they have to humor Mozzie right now. She has to go alone.

Peter watches Neal closely as he makes eye contact first with Jones, then Diana, then Sara, and finally Peter. There is something in the way the younger man holds himself, the set of his chin, the certainty of his look. Peter briefly wishes this Neal had surfaced a few months sooner, but nods now, satisfied with what he sees.

"You know what you're doing, Neal?" he asks.

Neal's face lightens slightly with a wry grin. "He probably expects me anyway. I can stay out of sight."

No one argues. The decision is made.

"Carry a bug with you. Jones will wait a few blocks away." Neal and Sara both object, but Peter simply shakes his head. "You have to have backup. Now find a way to get out of here without being seen." The grief so briefly relieved by action returns to Peter full force. "Remember what's at stake here."

Neal's sapphire eyes meet Peter's sepia ones with stark sincerity. "I know, Peter."

ooOoo

_I wish I had a jacket, _Sara thinks to herself as she strides determinedly toward the fountain in Madison Square Park. She shivers slightly in the damp dawn air. It's still summer, late August, but there is the faintest hint of autumn coolness this morning. She realizes it's not the thinness of the rose-colored silk blouse she wears but the adrenaline coursing through her body that is causing the shivers. The dawn light shining on the top of the Flatiron Building looks warm and golden; the same light gives Sara's rose-colored blouse and and the red highlights in her hair a gem-like gleam. Neal had laughed, a soft familiar chuckle, as she combed her hair and reapplied lipstick in the back of the taxi, but she is prepared to use every weapon in her arsenal to get this job done.

The sound of her high heels on the asphalt walkway is unnaturally loud in the relative quiet of Manhattan at dawn. _Different shoes would be great, too,_her brain tells her. But there hadn't been time after leaving Peter's to stop at her apartment for a jacket or change of footwear.

She clutches her bag closely to her side with a tense hand. Her other hand is poised to reach for her baton if she needs it. _There really is no need for uneasiness,_ she reminds herself. This is Mozzie she's meeting, not Jack the Ripper. It's all Caffrey's fault, implying there is danger in this meeting.

Neal. She knows he is somewhere close by, able to both see and hear her. She has no idea where, however. When they exited the taxi a few blocks from the park, she saw the FBI van but didn't see Neal slip away, wraith-like, into the predawn shadows. Maybe her mind is playing tricks on her, but she swears she can sense his presence, armed with his tracking anklet, an FBI listening device, and the determination to right all the wrongs he's caused because of his avarice. Avarice? No, not avarice. Fixation? Maybe fixation. It doesn't matter, for now he is the White Knight. Sara smiles at the thought of noble Neal.

"Ahem!"

Sara whirls around at the small sound, the baton half out of her bag. Mozzie defensively holds his hands up. His clothes, which normally look well-worn, currently look as tired as Sara feels. Mozzie looks tired too. It's been a long, long day for everyone.

"Hey, you wanted this meeting!" Mozzie admonishes her.

"I'm sorry, Mozzie, but this is just a little more clandestine than I'm used to." She shrugs her shoulders a little, the movement somewhere between apologetic and amused.

"We need to be very careful right now. We don't know who might be listening in." Mozzie's warning echoes Neal's earlier concerns. An early morning breeze chooses that moment to disturb the leaves of a nearby shrub. She finds herself shivering again.

"Mozzie, where's the art?" Sara goes straight to the heart of the matter.

"We'll get to that."

"Mozzie! Elizabeth's life is hanging on the location of the treasure." Sara suddenly finds herself sick of the damn artwork, priceless or not, for all the trouble it's causing.

"We need to proceed carefully. What is the FBI doing?" Mozzie looks up at her, calm and in control. She's never seen the little man like this; she finds herself trusting his judgment. Odd, that.

"They have a huge amount of manpower pulled in for this." Sara begins.

"I certainly hope they do."

"They've set up a grid system for searching." she continues. "They're canvassing door to door. They have access to every security camera in the city. I have no idea who or what they're listening to, but it's big. They have recording equipment set up at the house for ransom demands." Sara is pleased her voice stays steady at the last statement.

"Do they have proof of life? Has Keller made contact with Peter?" Mozzie's voice is as steady as Sara's. His concern slips out with the use of Peter's given name, rather than the appellation of 'Suit.'

"Keller called back once with his demands. Yes, Elizabeth is still alive." The call came in just after she and Neal made their plans for meeting Mozzie. It had been awful, with Keller taunting and cruel. Peter kept his emotions in check, just barely, but he did know his wife was still alive.

"Good. Good, everything is going just as I expected." Mozzie is all business now. "I've been in touch with Sally."

"Sally?" Sara's mind draws a blank.

"Yes, Sally. The Vulture? I have a love life too, you know."

"Sorry, Mozzie." Sara says again. She smiles briefly. Then she notices the sky has grown lighter; there are more people around. "What's your plan, Mozzie? We have to get going."

"Sally thinks she has a pretty good idea of where Keller has Elizabeth."

"Where?" The question comes out louder than Sara wants, fueled by surprise. "Shouldn't we tell the FBI? They can get her out."

"If the FBI uses force, so will Keller." Mozzie says this with unpleasant confidence.

Sara looks at him, her questions unspoken.

"Sally and I talked about this," Mozzie continues. "We think we know a way to con him out into the open."

"Con him?" Sara's voice is doubtful.

"Yes, con him! It's what I do, you know. Where's Neal?"

"I have to call him," Sara stutters, reaching for her phone. "I came alone, like you said."

"Really?" Mozzie asks contemptuously. "We haven't got time for this. Neal!" he calls out.

A shadow disengages itself from a nearby tree and becomes a man.

"I'm here, Moz." Neal steps out into the brightening morning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Caffrey – **Part 5

"I don't know what possessed you to drag me into this – but I'm in."

_Sara to Neal in In the Red_

"Nothing's changed, Neal." Mozzie stands tall and still, regarding his friend.

"Moz, Keller has Elizabeth," is the flat reply. Neal squints into the sunlight shining between the buildings to the east.

"Alright, so nothing has changed between you and me." Mozzie's scowl makes clear he isn't in the mood for semantics. He adjusts his glasses irritably.

"That's fine." Neal's face and form reveal nothing of what he is feeling right now. His posture is relaxed, but ready for action should the need arise; his face is bland, under control. The pain of the lost friendship lies in beneath the surface, carefully hidden.

Sara notices the dawn chill is burning off as the sun rises higher in the sky. The traffic noises are louder and more people are moving through the park. The two men in front of her are oblivious, caught in their own drama.

"Caffrey, we need to move this along." Her voice is firm, commanding. She needs his attention now.

Neal looks over at her, startled. He slips his hand into his pocket and removes the FBI bug. Holding up his hand to forestall the question on Sara's lips, his eyes move to the fountain shimmering merrily in the ever increasing sunshine. Understanding, she smiles and takes the bug from him, walking to the fountain.

"Don't forget to make a wish!" Mozzie calls out. Two businessmen hurry by, ignoring them, assuming they are early morning tourists.

Sara shuts her eyes, makes an unspoken wish for Elizabeth's safe return, and tosses the bug into the fountain. It makes a distinct crackling sound as it sinks under the water. _Boy, Jones is going to be pissed! _She knows just how much that little piece of technology costs.

Rejoining her co-conspirators, she wonders how anyone could mistake them for tourists. Both men need to shave; Neal's beautifully tailored suit is painfully unkempt and his tie is askew. Mozzie's normal lived-in look has achieved slept-in. Glancing down at her own navy slacks, she's glad she didn't put on the white ones - this, no make that yesterday, morning.

They stroll slowly northward, just three friends enjoying the morning. Mozzie walks between the taller Neal and Sara like a child between two adults. But he is the one in charge right now, situated between the other two so they can both clearly hear him.

"Sally knows where Keller is?" Sara tries to keep her voice conversational. It's hard to keep the emotions out. She wonders, vaguely, how Neal and Mozzie do it.

"She has a reasonably good idea," Mozzie replies. "I did a little investigating after our phone conversation. Some people I know," he looks blandly at Sara, daring her to question his sources, "are aware of some technology purchases he made. Keller isn't all that good with the finer nuances of untraceable. Once I found out what he had, it wasn't hard for Sally to triangulate possible locations."

"Mozzie, the FBI can't trace his whereabouts. Why do you think your friend can?"

"Oh, well, that's the FBI, not the Vulture." Mozzie dismisses Sara's concern offhandedly.

_This isn't the time to for hubris_, Sara thinks. They can't risk Elizabeth's life on some hacker's ego trip.

"Sara, it's okay. I know Sally." Neal meets her doubtful gaze. "Peter trusts her." That needs to be enough, right now, Sara knows.

Mozzie must know a whole lot more than the brand of whatever it was Keller bought, Sara realizes. She is curious how he obtained this information, especially in the middle of the night, but decides that not knowing is probably the best choice. It doesn't matter so long as it's helpful.

"So, you're going to sneak in and rescue Elizabeth?" She looks doubtfully at both men. "Isn't that dangerous?" she asks disingenuously.

"Of course it's dangerous!" Mozzie's raised voice draws the attention of a jogger. The three turn and head down a different path. "I would never do something so stupid," he continues in lower voice. "We need to convince him to invite us in."

Their path takes them around the playground at the north end of the park. Several children are already at play, their mothers watching as the youngsters careen around the slide and jungle gym. The children, running in their bright summer clothes look like pieces in a kaleidoscope. Sara finds it a hopeful sight. She notices Neal watching, too. The look on his face is both fond and mournful. Does he want children? Does he have children? There is so much about him she doesn't know.

"With the treasure?" Neal asks of Mozzie, bringing Sara's wandering mind crashing back to reality.

"With what he thinks is the treasure. We won't actually give it to him, of course." Mozzie's slight smile confirms Neal's suspicions.

"Moz, where is it?" Neal stops and looks the little man straight in the eye.

"It's safe and it's accessible. That's all anybody needs to know right now," is the defiant reply.

"What if we need to give it to Keller?" Sara asks, concern drawing the color from her face.

"We won't have to," Mozzie says determinedly. "Sally has a way to show him exactly what he wants to see without actually showing him anything at all."

"And … " Neal encourages.

"And if we have to give it to him for Mrs. Suit," Moz hesitates, but only for the briefest of moments, "we will," Mozzie concludes with a sigh.

Sara exhales a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. "So what do we do now?" she asks.

"Sally and I have a few more things to prepare. I'll be in touch when everything is in place. You better get back in contact with the suits so we know what's happening on their end. Besides, they probably aren't happy you drowned their bug."

Neal stops again, concern spread across his features. "Moz, we have to work fast. Keller isn't going to wait for us to set up a con. He has all the bargaining points. He has Elizabeth."

"I know that." Mozzie bristles, his authority questioned. "Sally has ways to string Keller along until we're ready. I trust her. You're going to have to trust me."

"I trust you Moz." Neal doesn't hesitate.

"Be ready in two hours," Mozzie directs. "You might want to clean up. You look like you've been awake for 24 hours."

Sara checks the time again. It's 8 a.m. There are people everywhere, going about their business. She's startled; doesn't the rest of the world realize there is a crisis going on?

"I _have_ been up 24 hours," she points out. "I need coffee. I need clean clothes." _I'm whining. How can I whine at a time like this?_

"We're close to Sunday," Mozzie continues.

"But it's Wednesday." Sara has no idea what Mozzie is talking about. Neal places a hand on her arm and smiles to reassure her.

"Neal, you can change there." Mozzie continues. He studies Sara with a practiced look. "I don't think I have anything in your size," he says apologetically.

"What?"

"Just leave it alone, Sara," Neal advises, his smile growing.

Shaking her head, she motions to her bag. "I have credit cards. I'm sure I can find something that will work."

Without another word, Mozzie disappears into the crowd. Looking at Neal, Sara asks the question she has to ask.

"Caffrey, do you really think this is going to work?"

"We have to trust him, Sara. It's the only way." A puff of wind stirs the unkempt waves of Neal's hair. He's tired, worn and obviously willing to place complete trust in someone other than himself. It's a side of Caffrey she doesn't see often. She finds she likes it.

Sara glances around, surprised, as she realizes they have almost walked back to their starting point. She looks at the sculpture in front of them, shimmering in the morning light. It's the Star of Hope.

ooOoo

"Don't forget to make a wish!" This is the last thing Jones hears before static, then silence.

"Sir, I think something is wrong … " Blake begins.

Jones interrupts Agent Blake before he can finish.

"It's Caffrey! I can't believe he's going to mess with us. Not now. Hasn't he done enough damage already?" He removes his headphones and flings them down on the narrow counter in front of him. "Is he gone yet?" Jones asks as he rubs his eyes, willing the answer to be no but expecting it to be yes.

"He hasn't moved, sir." Blake looks naively at Jones. "I think maybe he doesn't want us to hear something."

"You think?" Jones glowers at the younger man.

"Sir," Blake bravely continues on. "You know that sometimes Neal uses sources that … ," he hesitates briefly, "aren't quite legitimate. He's probably doing that now. Agent Burke usually cuts him some slack."

Jones opens his mouth to speak then closes it, the epithet dying on his lips. Agent Burke. _Peter._ What would he do? Cut Caffrey some slack? He would have. Before.

"Hey, Blake. You friends with Caffrey?" The question takes both Jones and the younger agent by surprise.

"Friends? No, not really. We've had lunch together once or twice. He seems okay."

"He's a conman." Jones reminds him. "A thief."

Blake pulls his eyes away from the monitor tracking Neal's anklet. "I know that. I always check for my wallet and keys when we get back to the office." The younger man meets Jones's eyes straight on. "I might be fresh out of Quantico, but don't think I'm so stupid as to be taken in by a known conman." His look challenges the older agent. "I think he'll be there for the important stuff, don't you, sir?" Blake's eyes never leave his.

The van suddenly feels too small to breathe in, Jones thinks. He remembers Caffrey having his back when they brought down David Lawrence. He remembers him risking his own hide to help Jones get his friend Jimmy back. Yeah, Caffrey was good for the important stuff. But he also knew all about the Nazi treasure and he appeared to be ready to run.

"Keep your eye on that monitor," Jones orders, heading for the back exit, "let me know if Caffrey sets one foot out of that damn park. I'm going to call Peter."

Jones steps out of the van onto the sidewalk on 23rd Street, just east of the park. He is always surprised to find so many people out so early in the morning. This particular morning he would be much happier if he was alone on the sidewalk, but it's not to be. He leans against a railing in front of a brick apartment building and hopes he blends in with the other pedestrians using their cell phones. He punches the number into his phone and nervously waits for a response.

"Diana, Caffrey slipped the bug," he begins without preamble. "I need to talk to Peter. I thought it might be better to use your phone, in case his phone is being monitored."

His eyes narrow, caused either by the rising sun or the rising voice on the other end of the connection.

"No, I don't think he's pulling anything." Jones is surprised to find he's telling the truth. "They met up with the little guy. I think they have some sources they don't want us to hear about. Let me talk to Peter."

He waits for what feels like an interminable amount of time, watching the early morning commuters, while listening to the muffled voices several miles away in the Burke house. He subconsciously snaps to attention at the sound of Agent Burke's voice.

"Jones, what the hell have they pulled now?" Familiar irritation is evident in Peter's voice. Jones is pleased to hear it. The first shock is wearing off, he thinks, and Peter's years as an agent are kicking in.

"They disabled the bug."

"Damn! What about the anklet?" Jones can see Peter, one had on his hip, the other brushing through his hair.

"The anklet is just fine. Still working, and from what we can see on the monitor, it's obviously still on Caffrey." Jones takes the plunge, defending Caffrey when he has no reason to. "I think they're protecting some less than legal sources. You know, plausible deniability."

"Yeah, that's an old favorite." For a moment Jones hears nothing but silence, then Peter speaks again, quicker and quieter than before, apparently hiding his conversation from the agents still in his house. "Okay, I want you to wait at the park entrance, all the park entrances. Caffrey is not going to slip us today. Get who you need to help you." There is the briefest of hesitations. "Jones, we need to do this quietly. I don't want Hughes and Rice to know Neal is off working some side deal." Jones can almost see the wry smirk on Peter's face at that particular phrase. "Maybe the FBI method is the way we'll catch Keller, maybe Caffrey's way is. But I don't want to hinder either one." Again, the hesitation. "I'm going to trust Caffrey. But I want to talk to him. Soon. Make sure he knows that."

"Sure thing, Peter." The phone goes dead in his hand. _You can trust Caffrey with the big things. _He sure as hell hopes he's right this time.

Lost in his thoughts, Jones doesn't see the young woman who crosses his path, coffee in one hand, cellphone in the other. He performs a quick half step to avoid a collision, smiles engagingly at her, and enters the utilities van, already issuing orders to a stunned Blake.

oo0oo

Jones intercepts Caffrey and Sara at the corner of Fifth Avenue and East 23rd as they are trying to lose themselves in the throngs of people heading to and from the subway. Sara assumes the only reason Jones finds them is the fact that Neal is too tired and stressed to be in top form. A slight crease between her eyebrows is the only indication she gives of how concerned this makes her. Caffrey needs to be in top form.

"Hey, Jones!" Neal's megawatt smile erases all signs of fatigue from his face. Only his rumpled clothes and day's growth of stubble give away the fact that he hasn't slept in over 24 hours.

"You headin' somewhere Caffrey?" Jones's own rumpled suit looks as bad as Neal's. Jones doesn't look any better than they do, Sara observes, except he's managed to shave. Idly, she wonders where; the van maybe.

"Just back to the van," Neal replies glibly. "Nice of you to meet us."

"You seem to be heading in the wrong direction," Jones points out.

"Oh, we must have gotten turned around. We did a whole lap around the park which I'm sure you know because I'm also sure you've been continuously following my tracking data." Neal taps his left leg for emphasis.

Busy Manhattanites ebb and flow haphazardly around the stationary threesome, adding some credence to the possibility of their getting turned around. Jones doesn't buy it for an instant.

"The bug stopped working." Jones counters. He starts walking in the direction of the van. Neal and Sara have no choice but to follow.

"Really?" Neal asks in surprise. Blue eyes wide, innocence seeping out of every pore, he states, "I didn't do anything to it."

How does he always control a situation so _he_ is the one telling the truth? Sara glares angrily at him for a moment, then effaces herself. She's still not used to being on this side of the truth.

They reach the van and continue their conversation standing behind it, ignoring both pedestrian and vehicular traffic. Fortunately, the van is wide enough to protect them from being maimed or killed by the steady flow of Manhattan traffic.

"What's Mozzie doing?" Jones cuts to the heart of the matter. "Has he got the art?"

"He assured us it's in a safe place. And readily accessible if we need to get it."

Neal raises his hands in a gesture of surrender as Jones makes a growling noise.

"Hey, doesn't the FBI say they don't pay ransoms?" he asks.

"So what's he doing?" Jones repeats. There are lines of tension around his mouth; his patience is wearing thin. _Just hold it together a little longer, Jones,_ Sara thinks at him.

"He's pretty sure he knows where Keller is." This time Neal holds his hand up in a gesture of command to halt Jones as he leaps into rescue mode. "He thinks we can get Keller out by offering him the treasure. Once he's out, you guys can get Elizabeth out."

"But you're not going to give him the goods, are you?" Jones clarifies.

Neal doesn't bother to respond, but the look he gives the agent says it all.

"A con?" Jones asks, somewhere between disbelieving and intrigued.

"I think it will work," Sara adds encouragingly. Somehow, she does think it will work. It's certainly safer than a full-fledged assault by SWAT. At least it's safer for Elizabeth.

Jones gives each of them a calculating look. He seems ready to accept the possibility of whatever they are planning.

"What are you going to do?" he asks.

"I need to talk to Peter." Sara watches Neal carefully as he says this. There it is, the slightest chink in the armor of his confident facade. He's wary, just the tiniest bit unsure, either of the coming conversation with Peter, or with the whole plan. Good, Sara thinks. Right now a little uncertainty will keep him on his game. Keep him honest? Well, maybe not so much.

"Well, Peter wants to talk to you, too. Come on." Jones opens the back of the van and signals for Neal to enter. Sara hesitates, but Jones ushers her in as well. She wonders wildly whether she's helping the FBI with a case or if she's being considered Neal's accomplice. She has absolutely no idea which and finds she doesn't really care.

Jones speaks quietly into his phone, talking to Diana. Then he looks up and hands the phone to Neal.

Neal takes the phone with a hesitant hand and places it to his hear. He breathes deeply, smiles, and speaks.

"Hey Peter."


	6. Chapter 6

**Caffrey** – Part 6

"Look at that, telling the truth. Did it hurt?"

"A little bit."

_Peter and Neal_, Bad Judgment

**A/N**: _I know, this took me forever. My bad. There was a lot of stuff I wanted to put in here and I obsessed over it. So, I'm through obsessing. Hope you like it._

The day is perfect. The air is warm but not humid; there isn't a cloud in the sky. A gentle breeze stirs the shrubs and flowers in Elizabeth Burke's lovingly tended backyard. A cup of coffee and a fresh pastry would make the morning complete. Like that is going to happen.

Neal moves restlessly in his seat on the Burke patio. He doesn't understand what's taking so long. Peter must know he's here by now, Jones went in the house at least ten minutes ago by Neal's estimation. His eyes shift involuntarily to the back door as if he can force it to open by sheer willpower. It remains uncompromisingly closed. His eyes shift back to the paving stones that make up the surface of the patio. The last time he counted them there were 36 gray stones and 24 brown ones. He starts counting again; maybe the number has changed in the last two minutes.

A soft click interrupts his tally of gray stones. Satchmo pads directly over to Neal and happily snuffles at his hand. He reaches over to scratch the big dog's ears.

"Hey, guy. Having a rough time of it?"

"He's not the only one."

Neal lifts his head, half rising as he meets Peter's weary brown gaze. Diana trails behind him.

"Stay where you are." Peter directs Neal as he drops into the seat across from him.

_Just like old times_, Neal thinks absently. How many times had they sat out here, he wonders? He finds himself contemplating again what he's lost. Or rather, what he's given away.

"Diana, go back in the house." The agent hovers over her boss like a guardian angel, ready to buffer him from any more hurt. Neal wonders if she's prepared to do Peter's dirty work for him if the need should arise. It stirs unexpected admiration in him; she's the one you want to have your back.

"Boss?" Her dark eyes are unyielding.

"Neal and I need to discuss some things alone," Peter explains. He smiles slightly at the look on his agent's face. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt him."

_Good to know_, Neal thinks. Both men are silent as they watch Diana reenter the house.

"Peter, " Neal begins. The older man holds up his hand to silence him. It's obvious he hasn't slept, though he's changed his clothes and shaved. He looks in control, professional. He looks like the seasoned FBI agent he is.

"Keller called again," he states flatly. "He seems to believe we have access to the art and are putting it together to deliver it to him. Since the FBI has no idea where it is, where did he get that idea?"

"Sally," Neal says with grudging admiration for the hacker's skill.

"Sally," Peter repeats. The look on his face is undecipherable.

"Only the best!" Neal flashes an uncertain grin. Peter's look morphs into irritation. The two men look at each other, neither moving. Satchmo anxiously peers up at them from his spot on ground; two of his favorite people are unhappy, and he doesn't even know where his mommy is. The dog heaves a heavy sigh.

Peter sigh mirrors the dog's, but some of the tension leaves his face. "What are you and Mozzie planning?"

The direct question takes Neal by surprise. "Are you going to shut us down?"

"I don't even know what you're doing!" Peter looks away, his frustration evident, then looks back again. "However, I am not going to stand in the way of anything that will get Elizabeth back."

A songbird warbles in the silence. Neal cringes inwardly at the irony of the sound.

"Peter," he begins. "I never thought … "

"No, Caffrey. We don't have time for this conversation now." Peter's eyes are hard and flat in the morning's light. He doesn't want to hear Neal's explanations – or excuses. He wants his wife back. He wants Keller to pay.

"We have to have this conversation now," Neal counters. "If we don't, we won't be able to work together."

Peter's chair makes a loud screech on the patio surface as he jumps to his feet. Satchmo jumps up, too, alert to whatever is disturbing his person. "We are never working together again, Caffrey!"

"We have to be able to work together to get Elizabeth back." Neal continues as if he hasn't been interrupted. He never moves from his seat, but the eyes that drill through Peter's exclamation are sapphire hard. "And it's going to take all of us to bring Keller down. You know that."

Peter closes his eyes and rubs his hands over his face. A deep breath releases some of the tension from his taut muscles. "Fair enough." He seats himself again, facing Neal. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Absently scratching the dog's ears, Neal realizes the time has come to explain the past weeks. The time has come to confess.

"I never lied to you Peter," he begins. He holds up his hand to halt the torrent of words erupting from the agent. "Your polygraph proved it," he continues. "I didn't know who stole the treasure. At the time I didn't even know it had been stolen. I certainly didn't know where it was."

"But you do now." Peter responds. "You know it all and you've known for a long time."

"Yes, I have." Neal's eyes never leave Peter's face as he continues his tale. "Mozzie moved the treasure the night after you and I found it. I had dinner with you, then Sara and I spent the night together. I really had no idea what was going on."

The faintest of smiles crosses Peter's face. No, Neal probably wasn't aware of too much that night. Neal and Sara together – . The smile quickly vanishes.

"But it was your artwork in the warehouse."

"Mozzie moved it there so there would be evidence of destroyed paintings. And so there would be something to burn."

"When did you know the treasure hadn't been destroyed?"

"I didn't know until I got home after your interrogation." _That's what this feels like now_, Neal thinks, _an interrogation_. "Even then I didn't know who stole it. I didn't find out until the next day."

"You didn't tell me. You and Mozzie were going to take the art and run. That's why you had that plane ready so quick for Lawrence, isn't it?"

The questions are coming hard and fast. _Definitely an interrogation_, Neal affirms, made doubly hard by the fact that it is being conducted by both Peter Burke, crack FBI agent, and Neal's good friend Peter, grieving husband.

"Yes, that's why."

Agent Burke is pissed; Peter the friend is hurt, betrayed. "So, when were you going to leave?"

"It got complicated."

"That's not an answer, Caffrey. What stopped you?"

"You."

"Because I was on to you? That's never stopped you before. I'm sure you assembled a complete catalog of facile lies to throw me off. You're a conman, Caffrey, it's what you do."

Neal lets the tirade reach its natural conclusion before speaking. "I never lie to you, Peter." The look on Peter's face forces Neal to rush to continue. "I may not – share – everything with you, but I never lie. I lied to Mozzie. Every time he had a new way for us to get away, I, uh, found a reason we couldn't go."

"Why?" Just one word, but there it is, the most important question of all.

"Because I don't want to go." City noises float around the patio, ebbing and flowing, but neither man hears them. They are both focused on the importance of that statement.

"But the big score?" Peter finally asks.

"Yeah, at first it was all I could think about. The last big score. But then there was so much more to think about." A small, ironic smile touches his face. "And I had to keep Mozzie from getting caught. It was complicated."

"Sounds like you hit bottom." There he is, Neal thought, Peter the friend.

"Close," is all Neal will concede.

"Has Sara known all along?" Peter isn't sure he wants to know the answer to that.

"No! She had no idea." Neal is glad Peter phrased the question the way he did. No need for a lie. He realizes he will lie to protect Sara.

"But she knows now." The statement doesn't require an answer, so Peter continues. "Where is she? She was here before." He looks around as if realizing for the first time that Sara is missing.

"I'm here. And Peter, I didn't know." Sara stands just inside the gate leading out to the alley, dressed in jeans and a simple white cotton shirt. The heels of her shoes are barely an inch high. Always elegantly dressed, for Sara this counts as active wear.

Satchmo jumps up and bounds across the yard to greet the newcomer. Sara absently strokes the dog's head, her hair falling across her face. It hides the discomfort her expression reveals. Lying to Keller to protect Neal is one thing; lying to Peter is quite a different one. Caffrey certainly changed her life. She's still not sure if that's good or bad.

"Is everything ready?" she asks. Sara observes the two men carefully. There is the slightest thawing of the distrust floating between them. They've obviously talked, reached some sort of truce. It's all she can hope for right now. They'll be able to work together. They have to be able to work together to make this crazy plan work.

"We need to include Diana and Jones," Neal replies, businesslike. Standing, he heads toward the house.

"We aren't through with this conversation yet, Caffrey." Peter stands as well but doesn't move from the table.

"I know, Peter." Neal's face is open, honest, as he looks back at his friend. "But we have to get going. I don't know how much longer Moz and Sally can fool Keller. He may not be as techno-savvy as they are but he's always … "

"Three moves ahead," Peter finishes.

ooOoo

"So, _that's_ your big plan?" Jones's eyes reflect his disbelief. He's disappointed. He expects an elaborate, precisely timed con; what he hears is classic bait and switch. "It's not going to work. I can see through it. Hell, anyone can see through it."

"That's why it will work." Caffrey is in his element now – plotting, planning. His eyes are bright, his movements decisive. Someone who doesn't know him might call it enthusiasm; the people gathered around him now recognize it as intensity. "Keller is greedy, but more than anything, he's arrogant. We want him to think we're too desperate to plan anything more involved than this. He needs to think he's in charge; that he can fool me and the FBI. That's how we'll get him to take us to Elizabeth."

They are indoors now: Neal, Peter, and Sara, sitting with Jones and Diana in a small cluster around the low table in the living room. The house is almost empty. Most of the agents who were there earlier are gone, either to canvass possible locations for Keller or back at the FBI offices making use of higher tech equipment. Several agents remain, however, hunching over laptops in the dining room, waiting for Keller's next call. The small knot of conspirators must keep their voices low and casual.

"Why don't we just give Mozzie's information to the agents who are searching?" Diana asks. "They can just go in and get him and we'll be done with this whole damn thing."

It's a reasonable question, Sara knows, but she also knows it won't work.

So does Peter.

"We know from the last time we dealt with him that Keller can get around law enforcement with no problem." Peter pauses, an uncomfortable look on his face. "Caffrey's right. We have to play to Keller's arrogance."

"He's a bully," Sara says suddenly, looking up. Her accurate description surprises everyone, including Sara.

"A bully?" Diana questions, confused.

"Yes. Don't you see it?" Confident of her reasoning, Sara continues. "He gets his pleasure not only from his crimes but from the misery he can create in the process. He wants to hurt you, Peter. He wants to destroy Caffrey." Both men look uncomfortable with her analysis, but neither can argue the point. "He claims he uses violence as a necessity, to get the job done, but he enjoys hurting people. That's what makes him so different from Neal and Mozzie."

The agents gathered around the small table all look at Neal, who looks uncomfortably away. Sara smiles a little at his obvious awkwardness. Caffrey's ego isn't nearly as big as he tries to convince everyone it is.

"So, how does this help us?" Jones glances into the dining room, uneasily aware of the agents manning laptops, tracers and recording equipment. One of them looks curiously back at him. Jones sends him a polite nod. "We need to move this along," he says quietly.

"Mozzie gave Sara a couple of small pieces of jewelry that belonged to Marie Antoinette. Keller has a thing for pre-Revolution Era France; maybe it's all that haughty decadence." Neal allows himself a brief, acerbic smile, then continues. "Sara can bring him those, along with the Degas." Peter inhales sharply and his eyes harden, eliciting another smile from Neal. "Peter, you've always known I had it." He continues his briefing. "Sara will tell him she took them from me at Peter's request as bond for Elizabeth's safety until the rest of the art is delivered. It should play right to his ego – Sara betraying me, Peter being desperate enough to work outside the FBI to bargain with him."

The little group is silent again, each of them considering the ramifications. Peter's face is a study of conflicting emotions. Sara realizes he might actually be feeling that despairing, that out of kilter. She looks again. No, not despairing, determined. It's only Keller's over-inflated ego that will allow him to think Peter Burke is desperate.

"Then what?" is all Peter asks.

"He won't meet with Sara anywhere near where he's holding Elizabeth. But Sara will ask for proof of life ..."

"Damn right I will." She interrupts Neal with something very much like a snarl. He gives her a soft smile in return.

"After she gets proof, he'll send her away again," Neal continues. "He'll probably make the encounter … unpleasant. Sara, are you okay with that?" Neal watches her carefully."

"I'm not worried; I've dealt with him before." She doesn't mention that he scared the shit out of her.

"Caffrey," Diana asks, "are you saying he could hurt her?"

"Not physically, no," Neal says, not really reassuring anyone. It certainly doesn't reassure Sara; Keller enjoys his work. She surreptitiously observes Peter, watching his distress warring with his determination and realizes she needs to 'cowboy up,' to borrow one of his favorite phrases. She can always fall apart when it's all over and Elizabeth is safe.

"He'll want to scare her," Neal explains. "He'll also want to remind her of how I'm the cause of all this trouble. In the end, it's me he's obsessed with. He wants to destroy me.

"Because you got him arrested?" Jones seems uncertain that this is strong enough provocation.

"No, because I betrayed him. Just like I betray all my partners."

There it is, the elephant in the room. Sara looks at the silent faces around the table. They know it's nothing but the truth. Neal has betrayed them all: Peter, Diana, Jones, even Mozzie. _And let's not forget me_. Now they all suffered because of it. Even Mozzie. Some more than others, Sara thinks, as her mind returns to the missing Elizabeth.

She sees his plan now. With a nod and a wink and that slow, smooth smile, Caffrey reveals his intention. He is going to offer himself to Keller to atone for his betrayals. Her breathing quickens. _That ass! _Her fists clench. _Not on my watch, he isn't_, she thinks fiercely.

Peter sees it too. One look at his narrowed eyes and she can tell. He's a good man and a good friend, a good partner. As angry and hurt and fearful as he is, he doesn't want Neal to sacrifice himself, not the way Keller will do it, the ultimate sacrifice.

"Sara?" Her head snaps up at Caffrey's query. "You're okay dealing with Keller, right?"

"I'll be fine, Neal." Sara's hazel eyes meet his blue ones. She sees nothing but confidence in his look. She hopes he sees the same thing in hers.

"I'll be right behind you if it gets messy." Diana reassures her.

"I'll be there too." Caffrey smiles confidently at her.

"You're supposed to follow Keller, Caffrey. How are you planning to do that?" It seems Peter also wants some clarification.

"It's more like he's going to be following me." Neal's grin doesn't slip as he continues. "After Sara gives him the bait, I'll 'slip up' and let myself be seen observing the handover. I'll make a quick exit and he'll follow me to the rest of the treasure. When he has that, he'll contact whoever is guarding Elizabeth. Mozzie and Sally will be able to confirm which of the possible locations is the right one, and you can go in and get your wife."

"But you don't have the treasure," Jones reminds him. "You don't even know where it is."

"Keller doesn't know that." The smile never fades. "There will be enough where I take him to stall him until you get to Elizabeth."

"He's gonna kill you."

"Hey, don't worry Jones. It's going to work fine."

Jones and Peter both seem ready to argue the point when the shrill sound of a cell phone cuts through silence of the Burke living room. Sara feels her muscles twitch in surprise. She isn't aware until now, how on edge she is.

"Agent Burke, it's the cell phone that was left in your car." The agent manning the laptop indicates the phone in the middle of the table with a sympathetic nod. She's worked plenty of other kidnappings and never heard a perp with such a taunting tone as this one. She gives Peter an encouraging smile as he reaches for the instrument. "Remember, you'll be on speaker. Try to keep him on as long as you can. We're trying to triangulate his location." She knows Agent Burke is well aware of the protocol, but it's her job to remind him all the same.

Peter stands and takes a deep breath before he walks to the table and picks up the phone.

"This is Burke."

"_Agent Burke. Or can I call you Peter? We're getting to be such good friends."_ Keller's disembodied voice issues eerily from the FBI equipment.

"Keller, can we just get this over with?" Peter struggles to keep his voice even and businesslike.

"_I'd really like to do that Burkey, but you seem to be dragging your feet. Don't you want to see your wife again? Poor Lizzie is going to be hurt."_

Sara feels her stomach roil. God that man is a bastard! She risks a glance at Neal. His face is cold and stony, but his eyes reflect dark anger.

"Keller, I've done everything you've asked me to do. What more do you want?" Peter grinds the words out, his dark eyes resembling granite.

"_You know what I want! I want the treasure. I can't believe it isn't ready for transport. Are you purposely delaying, hoping you can find your precious wife without paying up? That'd be a mistake, a fatal mistake. I'm sure you understand."_ The smirk on Keller's face is audible to everyone in the room. Neal walks over to stand with his friend, offering what little support he can.

"Keller, it's the FBI. These things take time." Peter grimaces; the excuse sounds lame, even to him.

"_How do I know you've even got the treasure. Maybe timid little Neal couldn't convince his friend Mozzie to give it up and this is all just a show for me. You know Caffrey doesn't like to put anybody out. He hasn't got the balls."_

Sara puts her hand over her mouth to keep from exclaiming out loud. Keller is getting too close to the truth! Diana rises from her seat to pace the room. Her fluid movements back and forth resemble that of a lioness ready for the hunt. It's an apt description; Sara shares the fierce sentiment.

Peter's face reflects a moment of panic, then his eyes settle on Neal, so close behind him. Neal's face is fierce with concentration, willing Peter to make the obvious reply. Keller has played right into their hands. He might be a chess player, but so is Caffrey.

Peter shuts his eyes and swallows once. When his eyes open again he's made his decision.

"I can give you a preview." Neal heaves an inaudible sigh of relief. The plan is a go.

The two agents at the table look up, their expressions vacillating somewhere between alarm and disbelief. The FBI never pays ransom. The FBI never deals. They don't have the treasure. What the hell is Agent Burke talking about?

Agent Jones is at their side before either of the agents can speak. He reaches a finger down to stop the recording. One look at his face eliminates any argument; they remain silent observers.

"_Can you?" _Keller's electronic voice is thoughtful. _"You know Peter, that just might help. But how's that gonna work, this being monitored by the FBI and all? I know you're recording this."_

"Not anymore."

"_I'm glad you're willing to work with me. That's more than Caffrey ever did."_

Keller's side of the connection goes silent for a long moment. Sara finds she forgets to breathe as she waits.

"_I want you to meet me at Ninth and 39th. I'm sure you remember the place. You were a guest there once, weren't you? Come alone. Or maybe you can bring Neal." _Keller's voice is confident now. He has everything the way he wants it.

"I'm not coming." Peter's voice is equally confident; his face is less so. There are deep furrows of concentration radiating from his eyes and mouth.

"_I think you're confused, Agent Burke."_

"Keller, I can't leave here. That would attract too much attention, you know that. Sara Ellis is willing to make the delivery."

"_Now why would she do that?"_ Keller's question radiates suspicion.

"Because she's my friend, and she can see now how Caffrey has screwed us all. She's the one who's made the, er, acquisitions we're talking about. She has no loyalty to Caffrey."

"_Fine. I want her there in an hour."_

Sara breathes again.

"I want one more thing, Keller," Peter continues, "I want to talk to my wife. Now."


	7. Chapter 7

**Caffrey – **Part 7

"Excitement and intrigue follow me wherever I go."

"That's probably true for both of us."

_Sara and Neal, _Unfinished Business

The gray stone pylons and steel cables of the Brooklyn Bridge fill the windows of the yellow taxi, then slip away unnoticed by the vehicle's lone occupant, as the taxi flies westward into the glass and steel walled canyons of Manhattan. Normally Sara enjoys this approach to the city from the bridge, it makes her feel

a little like Dorothy as she gets her first view of the Emerald City from the Yellow Brick Road. Today, however, is nowhere near normal, and she finds herself wistfully wishing for the assistance of the great and powerful Wizard of Oz. A picture of Mozzie as the Wizard, with his shiny bald head and horn-rimmed glasses, fills her mind. Sara quickly banishes the vision; the comparison is both too far-fetched to be believable and too close to reality for her to deal with right now.

She considers her current state of mind with mild disgust as the taxi exits the bridge and plunges into the noontime traffic of lower Manhattan. Sara Ellis – the Sara Ellis she has made herself into, is fearless. Sara doesn't recognize the woman whose body she now inhabits. Her palms are sweaty and her stomach is queasy. She can't recall the last time she's been this uncomfortable. Oh, but yes she can! It was when she discovered the treasure-cam on Neal's laptop. Caffrey certainly has turned her world upside down.

Again.

Sara sighs, and realizes she's been doing an awful lot of that recently. Another gift from Caffrey, she thinks wryly. She reaches her hand over to touch the cylindrical carrying case next to her on the seat. Inside is Degas' _The Entrance of the Masked Dancers_, estimated worth six million dollars. Inside a velvet case in her handbag resides a strand of pearls and a sapphire ring, both of which once adorned the body of Marie Antoinette. A tiny part of her wants to open the case, to peek at the jewels, to try them on. An embarrassed smile flits across her lips; they are exquisitely beautiful pieces, and she does love jewelry. What woman doesn't? Fortunately the curious eyes of the driver, regarding her in his rear-view mirror, keep her longing in check.

Her eyes flick nervously from the clock on the vehicle's cluttered dashboard to the street sign marking the intersection they just blew through. The cabbie turns halfway around in his seat to make eye contact with her.

"Don' worry, missus. We gonna make it in plenny o' time." The soft, slow consonants of his Haitian accent make her wish, unreasonably, for a Mojito. Or maybe it's just her nerves.

"You sure you wanna go dere, missus?" he questions her. "Dat's not the best neighborhood." His dreadlocks sway unnervingly with the motion of the cab as he swerves around a double-parked delivery van. "No' for a pretty missus like you."

_God, what she'd give for a surly cab driver just now!_

"Listen, I'll be fine," she says, pitching her voice to exude control. "I'll pay you double if you'll turn around, mind your own business, and _drive! _Just make sure we get there on time."

The driver turns back with a shrug and presses down on the accelerator. The taxi hurtles forward and Sara vaguely wonders if she hasn't just signed her own death warrant!

The return of relative quiet to the taxi's interior gives free rein to Sara's overly active mind. She replays in her head the conversation between Peter and Elizabeth. After a few agonizing minutes of waiting, Keller finally connected the husband and wife through his cellphone and she didn't know how many other intermediate devices. The FBI couldn't trace it – more unnervingly, neither could Sally.

Everyone in the Burke house was relieved at how _good_ Elizabeth sounded. There was no trace of weakness or fear in her disembodied voice, though she did sound tired. Mostly she sounded pissed. And oddly upbeat. Her first words nearly caused Peter to drop the phone.

"Peter, honey, are you okay?" El's voice radiated concern.

"Me?" Peter choked out in response. "El, hon, er, I'm … , El are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I fought," she replied matter-of-factly. "I have a few bruises. So do they."

At this point Peter had shaken his head, as if to clear it. A proud smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Sara had watched with interest as the man shifted from husband to Agent Burke as easily as he would slip into a comfortable pair of jeans.

"El, do you have any clue where you are? How far you traveled?" he asked urgently.

"Now, now, Agent Burke," Keller had interrupted scoldingly. "Are you ready for me to end this touching conversation?"

"Peter!" Elizabeth interjected quickly, "I have no idea where I am." She paused, then continued with the first signs of stress in her voice. "Just hurry and get him. Get me."

"God, honey," Peter's voice cracked. "I'm coming!"

"Just hurry! Or I may take matters into my own hands."

"Your hands are tied, Mrs. Burke," Keller reminded her.

"Yes, they are," was her reply, "now."

Elizabeth was then disconnected with an audible click.

"One hour, Agent Burke, Ms. Ellis. No later." Keller had ended the communication with that threat.

Another wild swerve of the taxi brings Sara back to the present. She flicks another quick glance at the time then peers out the window. They are in the garment district now, in the busy shopping area. Pedestrians are everywhere; Sara is pleased to see the cab manages to miss them all.

Her rendezvous with Keller is beyond this busy area in what might be called the working garment district. The retail shops disappear, replaced by warehouses and factories. Part of Sara wishes this meeting was taking place among the throngs of people, but she realizes this isn't practical. Still, the area won't be deserted; it's early afternoon on a business day.

"Here we are, missus." The driver turns back to face her as the taxi jerks to a halt. The buildings edging the intersection are unprepossessing brick structures designed for utility, not beauty. Sara scans the area from the open door of the cab before she steps out onto the sidewalk.

"You wan' I should wait, missus?" The Haitian's dark eyes meet Sara's with a touch of concern. She wonders briefly if she's telegraphing her uneasiness or if he's just that nosy. Giving herself a firm mental shake she smiles confidently at the man.

"No thanks. I'm meeting someone here in just a few minutes." The man gives her one last smile, his teeth flashing white in his dark face as he stows her payment in a cigar box. With a roar of the engine, the taxi disappears down the street in a haze of blue exhaust.

Sara finds herself standing alone on a street corner, awkwardly clutching millions of dollars worth of art and jewels, waiting to meet a ruthless killer. The irony of the situation would be laughable if she didn't feel so damned uncomfortable; and if Elizabeth's life didn't depend on the outcome of this particular encounter. She concludes she's over-thinking the situation and scans the area around the intersection.

There! Across the street and four doors down she spots the light colored Ford. The woman inside is taking her lunch break. There's a carry-out bag perched precariously on the dash. She takes an occasional sip from a bottle of water and turns the pages of the paperback thriller she's reading. Diana looks up and quickly makes eye contact with Sara, then looks down at her book again, just as quickly.

Sara feels ridiculously comforted by the sight of the agent. She scans the other cars parked within her range of vision. She detects no sign of Neal or Peter though she is sure they must be close by. They better be close by; the plan won't work if Caffrey doesn't make his appearance. In the final, frantic stages of their planning, Peter insisted on accompanying the con. She's not sure if that's because Peter feels Neal needs the back-up, or because he doesn't trust Caffrey out of his sight. It really doesn't matter why, as long as he's there. Peter's calm, steady presence is like a warm blanket on a cold day.

Sara shifts her eyes back the other direction and her breath catches in her throat. Standing next to her, so close she can feel his breath on her cheek, is Matthew Keller. She wonders wildly if he just materialized there like a puff of black, foul-smelling smoke.

"Ms. Ellis," he says softly, taking her elbow in his hand, "it's so good to see you again."

ooOoo

Peter maneuvers the Taurus through the noontime traffic of lower Manhattan with the intensity of a NASCAR driver. Unfortunately, his skill level isn't up to racing circuit standards. Neal has a firm grip on the passenger door armrest – it is willpower alone that keeps him from grabbing the dashboard with his other hand as Peter negotiates the narrow space between a taxi and a FedEx delivery van.

"Peter, it's important that I make it there alive." Neal knows this is not the day to criticize the agent's driving, but the New Yorker's normal disregard for basic traffic safety has taken a maniacal turn. Neal is never a comfortable passenger and his already taut nerves are ready to fray.

"Shut up, Caffrey."

Okay, so much for that. Neal shuts his eyes and replays the plan in his head. They are as ready as they can be for their dealings with Keller. Planning for anymore contingencies will just make them _too_ prepared. All successful cons leave a little wiggle room; there are times you just have to go with the flow. He also understands how hard this is for Peter. Even at the best of times he is much more at ease when there are rules to follow. And now, when so much depends on their success …

The chiming of the phone interrupts his thoughts. He opens his eyes to glance at the control panel as Peter connects the call.

"Diana?" With one word, Peter conveys a multitude of questions.

"Boss, I'm in position. Sara just arrived, right on schedule. There's no sign of Keller." Diana's competent voice fills the car.

"We won't see him until he's ready for us to. Do you see Blake?"

"No … wait; yes, I see him. He's in position." Diana's eyes catch sight of the young agent casually checking out the bus schedule in a shelter at the corner.

"Good." The word isn't so much an endorsement as acceptance. "Keep an eye out for anything, Diana, anything at all."

"You know it, Boss." Diana's competent,confident voice reassures. "I'll get Blake on ear-mike. We're on this." Peter ends the call with a sharp jab at the control screen. He heaves a sigh as he negotiates traffic, but his hands are steady on the wheel.

Peter isn't completely comfortable with Blake's inexperience. The fact that Caffrey suggested the younger man doesn't help reassure him in any way. However, Jones is needed at the Burke house, both to insure that the agents remaining there do nothing to interfere with there plan and to run interference with Hughes and Agent Rice. Poor Jones is their sacrificial lamb.

"I like Blake." Neal says into the silence. Peter turns his head and gives the younger man a calculating look.

"Why? Because he's easily misled, I suppose."

"No! He's easy going, not easily deceived." Neal realizes with a shock that he's defending an FBI agent. What has his life come to? Just one more step down the road to the dark side, as Mozzie would say. Equally disconcerting is Peter's negative attitude. While he understands why, it still just seems _wrong_. Peter is always the steady, positive one. If, no, _when_ they have Elizabeth safely away from Keller, Neal hopes that attitude will return.

Once again, silence fills the Taurus's interior. Peter is forced to slow his speed to something Neal considers reasonable as they make their way around Ground Zero. His concern over Peter's driving temporarily temporarily allayed Neal's thoughts drift to his coming encounter with Keller. He is not looking forward to it.

They are several blocks from the designated rendezvous point when Diana calls in again. She starts to speak as soon as Peter accepts the call.

"Boss, are you close? Keller is here. Sara is trying to stall, but I don't know how long she can keep it up."

Neal feels a tightening in his chest. He knows Sara can handle herself in a difficult situation; he's seen her do it. Still, this is Keller – Keller, who wants to hurt him every way he can. He shoves that worry away. He knows Diana and Blake are there for Sara. He gathers his scattered thoughts and smiles confidently at Peter. It's showtime!

"Peter, stop here so I can get into position," Caffrey directs. His hand is on the door handle, ready to jump out. Peter pulls to the curb, leaving the car running. He stops Neal's exit, clamping his hand around the man's wrist.

"Peter, the timing on this is pretty tight; I have to get to where Keller can 'discover' me. Otherwise he might hurt Sara." He's playing to Peter's inherent chivalry, he willingly acknowledges, but getting Keller away from Sara is a legitimate goal.

"How are we supposed to track you, Caffrey? You aren't wearing the anklet and you refuse to carry a bug."

"It's going to have to be visual. I can't carry any sort of tracking device; Keller is going to be looking for that." Neal lets his mind envision the search Keller was likely to put him through. It's not a pleasant thought. "Peter, there are two of you … and I'm not going to lose either one of you. I swear."

The long, considering look from Peter is agony for Neal. That he doesn't trust him is almost physically painful to the younger man.

"You have to stay in sight of Blake or me at all times," Peter instructs. "No dodging; no double crossing."

"None, Peter." Neal looks him straight in the eye, trying to convey his intentions with every breath, every heartbeat.

Peter picks up the radio to let Agent Blake know that Caffrey is on the move.

"Thanks, Peter." It's an odd comment, coming from someone who has just been given permission to go into a very dangerous situation, but both men know what it means. It's a matter of trust.

"Caffrey!" Neal stops halfway out of the car and turns back to Peter, an eyebrow lifted in query. "Do you want a vest?"

Neal stiffens with surprise. "I can't wear one and convince Keller he caught me unaware," he explains. "Besides," he continues in a bitter voice, "you've never offered me one before. Why start now?"

The barb hits home; Peter briefly looks away, before making eye contact again.

"Neal," he starts again, his look expressive, "be careful."

The car door slams, and Caffrey is gone.

ooOoo

Sara's anxiety is gone, banished by Matthew Keller's overbearing behavior. He's just a bully, she reminds herself, who inflates his own ego by threatening others. He doesn't scare her, though, not anymore. She knows which side is going to win in the end; that's enough for her.

Almost enough. Knowing where Neal is at the moment would be good, too. His appearance is key to making the plan work; she can only stall for so long and make it believable. Her eyes quickly scan the surrounding area, hoping to catch a glimpse of Caffrey's familiar form. She sees nothing but brick buildings, passing traffic, and pedestrians scurrying past. _Hurry up, Caffrey! s_he thinks. Keller may be a bully, but he's also smart. Really smart. _A chess player just like you are, __Caffrey._

"Ms. Ellis – Sara, I really feel like I'm getting to know you now. In fact, I'm getting to know you so well, Sara, that I'd say you're delaying this little exchange." Keller's lips twitch upwards. "Are you expecting someone to join us?" His dark eyes sparkle with amusement as he turns his head to survey the area, his hand never loosening its grip on her arm. Sara is sure he must have made Diana by now, no matter how careful the agent is being. This is taking too long! Where the _hell _is Caffrey?

"I know the noble Agent Burke isn't going to stop this; he wants his wife back. I bet he's parked a few blocks away, just waiting to see if I make a mistake." Keller chuckles, knowing he's right. Damn!If this guy wasn't such a creep, she could almost admire his intelligence. Almost. "Tough little Agent Berrigan," the soliloquy continues, "she won't do anything her boss doesn't want her to." She knew it! Sara looks wildly over to the Ford, shaking her head, trying to indicate to Diana that her cover is blown.

"Are you looking for Caffrey?" Keller continues, sounding surprised. The grip on her arm tightens, forcing her to turn and face the man; the look on his face is amused. Her fingers curl into fists – she would love to scratch that smug look off his face! "Really Sara, I thought you figured it out by now, he isn't coming to your rescue. I'm sure he and Mozzie are long gone. It if you want a faithful companion, adopt a dog." An involuntary shudder passes through her; it's sheer rage, but Keller interprets it as fear. He chuckles again. He's having so much fun.

The slightest movement, just at the edge of some construction scaffolding partway down the block catches Sara's eyes. Caffrey. Finally! Relieved, she realizes she needs to play this out just a bit more.

"I know he's gone." She puts the tiniest quiver in her voice as she responds to Keller. "That's why I'm here. Take this," she indicates the Degas. Peter and Agent Jones will have the rest ready for you within the hour." _Well, they'll have something ready for you,_ she thinks, _just not the treasure._ She hides a smug smile of her own.

"And the jewels?" Keller indicates her purse.

"Sure. You can have them just as soon as I talk to Elizabeth Burke."

Keller's nostrils flare as he inhales. Irritation replaces amusement on his face – his eyes harden to flint.

"You people are starting to piss me off!" His rising voice catches the attention of several pedestrians. Agent Blake casually moves closer, shifting from the bus shelter to peer into the window of a carryout restaurant. He watches the pair in the window's reflective surface.

"I think I've shown a lot of patience, but it's starting to wear thin." Keller's voice quiets to a reptilian hiss. "Why don't you show me a little respect?"

"Why should we?" Sara sees Neal slip quietly into the doorway near Blake, giving the young agent a quick nodas he moves. He's in position now. "You're a killer."

Keller doesn't even blink. "I'm not afraid to do what it takes," he says conversationally, "I think you need to consider that." The grip on her arm tightens perceptibly. She's going to have a bruise to remember him by; she hopes that's the only memory he leaves her with.

"You don't scare me." Her voice is calm now, firm. "I talk to Elizabeth, you get the jewels." Sara knows it's up to her to get proof-of-life. After that, the plan moves forward.

Keller's exasperated sigh ruffles Sara's hair. He takes out a phone and keys in a number. After a mumbled command, Keller holds the phone to her ear, his own head pressed against hers, enabling him to hear both sides of any conversation.

"Hello?" Sara questions. "Who is this?" Keller's close proximity – the warmth of him pressed against her, his scent obvious – make her want to squirm away. She holds still by the sheer power of her will.

The voice she is hoping to hear sounds in her ear, strong … and confused. "Sara? Is that you? Why … "

"Elizabeth!" she calls out loudly to let her watchers know Elizabeth is still alive. "Just hang on, we're going to get you out," Sara says more softly, offering what little encouragement she can to the captive woman.

"That's it!" Keller angrily pulls the phone away from her head, catching her hair in the process. He snaps the phone shut as she rubs at the side of her head. Even in New York, Keller's rough behavior attracts attention. Several passersby slow, ready to help the pretty woman being manhandled by an ill-mannered boor. One woman pulls her phone out, appearing ready to call for help. Sara quickly changes her demeanor from threatened to amused. She wills her shoulders to relax as she spreads a smile across her features. She raises her left arm, the one Keller isn't holding, and smacks him playfully in the shoulder.

"Really darling," she drawls, "you've got to stop acting like such a bully. People are starting to stare." Sara looks deliberately at the woman with the cell phone, smiling and shaking her head. "Men can be such dimwits," she says in mock dismay. Keller's head drops in simulated embarrassment, his body language broadcasting no hint of his anger. The concerned woman smiles tentatively before continuing on her way.

"Well played, Ms. Ellis," Keller concedes through the false smile plastered on his face. "Now, give me the jewels, and tell me where the rest of the treasure is."

Sara digs in her purse, pulling out the velvet bag containing the ring and necklace.

"Sara!" Caffrey's sharp cry startles her, even though this is part of the plan. She pulls the hand holding the jewels back against her body, out of Keller's reach.

Keller doesn't notice the movement, his eyes are focused entirely on Neal Caffrey.

"I really didn't expect to see you here Neal. I didn't think you'd have the nerve, after what you did to Sara here and poor Agent Burke."

Ignoring Keller, Neal addresses Sara. "Sara, you stole those from me." His voice exudes shock; his face is disaproving. He's playing his role perfectly.

"Caffrey, he kidnapped Elizabeth! I can't believe that even you can be so selfish." Sara's look of horrified indignation is equally believable.

"Sara, it's all I have left." Caffrey's voice wheedles. "Moz took the best pieces and ran. The FBI has the rest. I need to get away. You know Burke will get his wife back; just give me the bag." If Sara didn't know this was all part of the plan, she would be appalled at his behavior. God he was good!

Keller is buying the performance. "You know, Caffrey, I didn't think even you would stoop so low. You real are spineless, aren't you. It's pitiful." Keller's face is exultant.

"Keller, just give me the jewels. You can have the Degas." Even as he whines, Neal gives the briefest of glances to the surrounding streets. Diana has stepped out of her car, ready to move if things go bad; Blake, too, has shifted his position to better observe the encounter. Neal knows Peter is listening through the ear-mike and will be nearby, too.

Without warning, Caffrey's hand shoots out and grabs the bag from Sara's hand. She makes a half-hearted attempt to hold onto it before she realizes this is Caffrey's big move.

Suddenly, everything is happening at once. Keller shoves Sara to one side to grab at Caffrey and the bag. Diana runs into the street, gun in hand, ready to intervene. Traffic stops with screeches of tires; vehicles swerve, several barely avoiding collisions. A close encounter between a bicycle messenger and a taxi driver sounds as if it may lead to bloodshed. Pedestrians scatter, anxious to get out of the line of fire.

Sara stumbles and almost falls, a quick grab at a nearby light post saves her from a humiliating tumble to the pavement. Brushing her now unruly hair from her eyes, she sees Neal shoot her an uneasy look. She responds with a quick head nod and a smile – she's fine.

"Freeze, Keller, FBI! It's over!" Diana stands braced in the middle of the road, gun pointed at Keller's head. Blake moves closer, his own gun out, ready to help bring Keller down. Around them, traffic and pedestrians are now frozen, wary observers of the unfolding drama.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Agent Berrigan. It's not quite over yet." A gun appears in Keller's hand, as if out of thin air – large, black and lethal. He grabs Caffrey, pulling him close to his body. The gun is pressed firmly beneath Neal's right ear.

"Come on, Keller, you're not going to shoot him!" Diana yells firmly. But they all know he will shoot, given the opportunity. With pleasure.

A sharp whistle from Keller pierces the air and a dark van pulls alongside him. Caffrey doesn't struggle as he is shoved inside the van. Peter Burke rounds the corner, his own gun drawn, but can only watch helplessly as the van takes off.

"Neal!" Sara yells, but the van is gone.

_**A/N: **I know, this took me forever. I hope it was worth the wait. Please review._


	8. Chapter 8

**Caffrey **— Part 8

"Look, I know things are complicated"

"Well, that's kind of your specialty, Neal."

"I could teach a master class."

_Sara and Neal, _Under the Radar

_Previously: Sara meets with Keller in hopes that she and Neal can trick him into leading them back to where he is holding Elizabeth. Things don't work quite as planned, and Keller takes Neal as hostage, instead._

Agent Blake takes in the scene with a quick glance around the area. He sees the bike messenger, still in heated discussion with the cab driver who almost hit runs across the street, pulling his badge from his pocket and holstering his weapon.

"FBI!" He yells, flashing his badge just like he's seen Agent Burke and Agent Jones do.

"I need your bike!"

"No way, man!" the messenger says indignantly. He wheels his bike to one side, away from Agent Blake's reach.

Blake removes his jacket and tie. He tosses them to one side. They land in a heap on the sidewalk. Removing his holster, it lands on the ground with the coat and jacket. He shoves his gun into the back of is slacks, pulling his shirt out to cover it. The messenger gives him a wary look.

"I'm pursuing a kidnapper."

"And I'm trying to do my job," is the indignant reply.

Blake looks over his shoulder._ Is anyone else available? Agent Berrigan is still in the middle of the road, Agent Burke is just joining her. Ms. Ellis is still at the curb. It's up to him,_ he realizes.

"Look, it'll be easier for me to follow on a bike. I can weave through traffic. Just like you do."

The messenger isn't convinced.

"I'll pay you." Blake pulls his wallet out of a pocket. It's very thin; obviously he doesn't have much money. "Forty-seven bucks." The young agent makes it sound as if this is a veritable hoard. "And give me your helmet, too."

"No way! Do you know how much that helmet ... ?"

Blake doesn't let him finish. He shoves the money and a business card into the kid's hand. He grabs the bike and helmet and takes off, going the same way the van went.

The messenger yells something profane.

"You know where I work!" Blake yells as he weaves in and out of traffic, his face flush with excitement as he, too, disappears around the corner.

ooOoo

Diana stands in the middle of the street, her gun still drawn, pointing at empty space.

"Damn!" She holds the wire from her earbug to her face and lowers the gun.

"Boss, he grabbed Caffrey, took off in a van."

"I saw." Peter Burke jogs along side her, his own gun drawn. He stares at the corner where the van disappeared. "Damn! Did anyone see where it went after it left here?"

"This isn't an official op," Diana reminds him. "No one is watching except us."

"Where's Blake?" Peter looks around, sees only stopped traffic and bystanders. "Dammit, where is he?"

Sara Ellis joins Diana and Peter in time to hear the question.

"He took off after the van," she explains shortly, looking at the corner where she last saw the van and Blake. Her heart is beating faster than it should, she realizes. Her breasts rise and fall as she takes a deep, ragged breath. It's as if her lungs have forgotten their function. They've lost their lead to Elizabeth. But it's more than that; t_hey lost Caffrey too — and Keller wants to kill him._

"Blake followed on foot?" Peter asks with disbelief. Diana heads back to her car and pulls out a radio. Toggling it on, she calls for Blake. The only reply is static.

"He commandeered that guy's bike." Sara focuses once more on the present, pointing to the messenger, who is standing among other onlookers.

"Blake, what's your 20?" Diana tries again to reach the younger agent. There is only more static in response. She lowers the radio. "Where are you, Blake?" she mutters to herself.

Diana's cell phone rings. Everyone stares at her as she answers it.

"_Agent Berrigan."_ Her eyes narrow as she hears the voice on the other end of the connection.

"It's Blake," she tells the others. "I'm putting you on speaker, Blake." Peter and Sara move closer to Diana.

"Where are you Blake?" Diana asks.

"_I'm in pursuit of the van with Keller and Caffrey."_

"On a bike?"

"_It's easier than in a car." _Blake makes this sound perfectly reasonable.

"Where are they?" The look on Peter's face is somewhere between aggravation and admiration toward the younger agent.

"_They're heading east"_

"Can you keep the tail?"

"_No problem. Traffic is crawling. The bike is better than a car."_

Peter can hear exertion in Blake's voice. "And you can . . . ?

Blake cuts off Peter, anticipating the question. _"I can keep up, no problem," _he says again. _"Cross-country in both high school and college."_

Sounds of horns blasting and other traffic sounds come through underneath Blake's voice.

Blake mutters an obscenity as the traffic sounds beyond him become more confrontational. _"Gotta go. I'll keep you posted." _

ooOoo

Blake cycles like a madman, weaving in and out between cars, trucks, buses, and pedestrians; in several instances barely missing them. He feels oddly exultant, high on the heady mix of adrenaline, desperation, and the chance to prove himself to Agent Burke.

Blake and a taxi both take aim for a small piece of roadway vacated by a Zipcar. Blake gets there first, slipping between the curb and a row of parked cars. He slaps the hood of the taxi in triumph as he moves forward. His face wears a wide grin. Breaking the rules is fun, he finds. Maybe this is how Caffrey feels when he pulls a con.

Half a block ahead the van carrying Caffrey and Keller picks up speed, running through a red light and into lighter traffic beyond. It swerves around slower moving vehicles, followed by a cacophony of screeches, squeals, and honks.

The grin leaves Blake's face. His eyes narrow as he analyzes the scene ahead, trying to find the best way to follow the van. The bike jumps the curb, and Blake is riding through pedestrian traffic. People scatter as he races ahead.

"FBI! Out of my way! Clear a path here!" Blake reaches for his phone as the van rounds a corner ahead and once again disappears from view.

ooOoo

"Diana! Call for back-up!" Peter pulls keys from his pocket as he turns to head back to his car.

"Boss!" Diana grabs at his arm to stop him. "This isn't an off- … "

"Damn straight it's an official op!" he barks. "We have sighted, and are in pursuit of, a wanted fugitive. Exigent circumstances!"

Diana reaches into her car and pulls out the radio. Holding it to her mouth, she hesitates.

"What should I tell them, boss? We don't know where the van went."

"Tell them we have an agent in direct pursuit. Blake said they're going east. Have them coordinate through you."

Peter runs back to his Taurus as Diana barks orders into the radio. He goes twenty yards before he realizes Sara Ellis is right behind him. He stops.

"Sara, this is now an official FBI op."

"Yeah, I know." She urges him on to the car.

"You can't come. Go back to … " He stops, unsure of where to tell her to go. "Sara," he says again.

"It's not like I haven't taken part in other FBI operations," she says reasonably.

They both arrive at the car. Peter opens the door and looks at her over the roof.

"Sara, this isn't like other operations."

"No, it's not."

"Sara."

"You are not going to leave me standing here in the street!" Her face is set; the hand resting on the roof of the car closes in a fist. This is not a woman willing to be left on the sidelines.

The radio inside the car crackles with static, the sound adding to the sense of urgency.

"It's dangerous," Peter reminds her.

"I can take care of myself." The green in Sara's eyes reflects determination as hard as emeralds.

"Get in," is all Peter says. He once described Sara Ellis as a tornado in heels. Today, Peter Burke is the unlucky trailer park.

ooOoo

"Have you got them?" Mozzie leans over to check the monitor in front of Sally. She types code into the laptop next to her while watching the larger screen directly in her line of sight.

"Yes, I have them. Just keep your eye on that feed and we won't have any problems."

"We already have problems, big problems." Mozzie turns back to the screen in front of him, tapping a few keys. "This isn't how we planned it. There is no kidnapping in our plan."

"Mozzie, it's good. We're good." Sally quickly looks away from her screens to make eye contact. "Caffrey's good, Moz. You keep telling me that. So believe it."

"But this is Keller. This isn't someone Neal can just talk his way around." He taps at his keyboard again.

"But it is part of your plan to have the FBI follow Neal back to Keller's hidey-hole isn't it?"

"Do you see anyone following them?" Sally studies the traffic cam she's hacked into.

"Just this guy." She points at the monitor. Mozzie stares.

"No," he wails. "Oh, no! This is not good." He reaches for the cellphone next to him on the console. He starts to dial, stops, thinks, then dials again.

ooOoo

Once again Peter is driving, this time east. Next to him, Sara sits stiffly, eyes straight ahead. She doesn't grab for the arm rest like Neal did. She has too much pride. She does hang on to the shoulder harness, keeping it from locking every time the car brakes or swerves. She swears she catches Caffrey's scent on the seat belt. She doesn't know if this makes her feel better or worse. She decides not to think about it.

The trill of a cellphone shatters the palpable silence inside the car. Peter looks at Sara; it's her phone. She doesn't recognize the number.

"Hello?" She answers hesitantly.

"_Are you with the suit?"_

"Mozzie! What … ?"

"_Are you with the suit?"_

"Yes." Peter takes his eyes off the road to look at Sara.

"_I need to talk to him. Now."_

Sara hesitates as the car swerves. Peter doesn't need any distractions, not if they want to reach their destination alive.

"_Now," _Mozzie repeats.

Sara taps the button for the speaker.

"_Suit! What are you doing?"_

"Mozzie, now is not the time." Peter's voice is carefully controlled.

"_You're supposed to be following Neal!"_

"I am following Neal."

"_Then where is he?" _Mozzie's voice seems to vibrate with intensity.

"He's ahead of me. Heading east."

"_You can't see him, can you Suit? You lost him."_

"Mozzie, there is an agent with eyes on the van right now." The calm of Peter's voice belies his own concern at Blake's covert skills.

"_Yes, the suit-in-training is tailing them! On a bike! The _baby_ suit!" _Sara can hear the exclamation points in Mozzie's voice. _"This isn't a training exercise, Suit; Keller is a killer."_ She can also hear the concern.

"I know, Mozzie. He has my wife." The evenness of Peter's voice is deadly.

Mozzie offers no response. Sara starts to disconnect the call when another call comes through the car's system.

"_Peter." _The voice is Diana's; the strain in it is almost visceral. _"Blake lost the van at 5th and 34th."_

ooOoo

Blake pockets his cellphone, leaning the borrowed bike against a pole. He removes the helmet and hooks the strap over the handlebars. It's obvious he doesn't really care what happens to the bike. Pedestrians ebb and flow around him; the entrance to the Empire State Building is directly behind him. The tour bus that cut him off from his pursuit of Keller disgorges dozens of chattering tourists draped in cameras, binoculars, and other paraphernalia.

He wipes his hand wearily across his face, pushing sweat dampened hair off his forehead. His entire body screams defeat. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to lose the van. So much depended on following that van and he'd blown it. Agent Burke's wife, how much longer did she have? And Caffrey, who is his friend. What would Keller do to him if he got his hands on the treasure? Even worse, what would Keller do to Caffrey if he didn't get the treasure? Whatever Caffrey the con had done, Caffrey the man didn't deserve what Keller would do if that happened. No one did.

ooOoo

"Diana, what the hell is going on?" Jones' voice is raised, but the other agents in the Burke house don't seem to notice. They are too busy with the chatter on the FBI radio band. Jones has kept a lid on things as best he could, but it seems as if it's all blowing up in his face anyway.

"When did this become an official op?" he asks, not giving Diana a chance to answer his last question.

Listening to her voice over the cellphone, he can tell something is off.

"_It became an official op when Keller grabbed the Degas — and Caffrey."_

"He took Neal? Isn't Neal supposed to lead him back to the treasure?"

"_It didn't work out the way it was supposed to." _A gratuitous restatement of the obvious, Diana thinks. _"But since Keller is a fleeing fugitive Peter could legitimately call in for back-up. Anything else they find — or do …"_

"Exigent circumstances." Jones finishes. He remembers the Dutchman case too. "Have you talked to Hughes? What was his response?"

"_Explosive." _That might be an understatement as well, Diana thinks._ "The agents at the house?" _she continues,_ "Can you get away without a problem?"_

"It doesn't really matter any more whether I'm here or not, everybody knows what's been going on."

"_Good. Meet me at 26th and Madison. We could use your help."_

"Yeah, and I don't want to be around when Hughes shows up."

ooOoo

"Can you see them? Can you find the van anywhere along 34th? They're heading east."

Sally doesn't look up from her console. "Mozzie, calm down! You're going to have an aneurism. We've got this. Can you bounce the signal from Penn Station off that tower on Fifth?"

Mozzie taps away at the keys, talking the entire time. "I didn't come back for this. I'm supposed to be on the island. Neal's supposed to be on the island. None of this should have happened. I didn't come back to watch everyone get killed!"

"Mozzie!" Sally reaches out her left hand to grab Mozzie's arm. She looks over at him, making eye contact. "Mozzie," she says again, "look! There's the van. Call the suit. We'll guide him."

Mozzie looks at the monitor where Sally is pointing to the van, stuck once again in traffic. He takes a deep breath.

"It's okay," she reassures him. "Call Peter."

Mozzie dials.

ooOoo

"_Suit."_

Mozzie's second call in as many minutes cuts through the silent desperation filling the inside of the Taurus.

"Mozzie."

"_Even though you and your fellow suits have proved unequal to the task ..."_

Sara sees Peter's hands tighten on the steering while, the knuckles going white. With effort, he remains silent as the other man continues.

" … _Sally and I have located the van carrying Neal and Keller. We will guide you and your semi-competent minions to their location."_

Peter takes a deep breath. It's obvious to Sara that Mozzie's taunting isn't winning him any friends on the driver's side of the car, but she's relieved the hysteria is gone from his voice. She knows everyone needs to stay calm right now.

"Mozzie," she intercedes before Peter can say anything that will provoke the little man, "I'm going to conference this with Diana's phone. She can arrange for back-up to meet us."

Peter shoots Sara a grateful smile as she starts to punch buttons.

"Okay, Mozzie," he says calmly, "go ahead."

"_You need to head east, past the Empire State Building and Penn Station, hang a right on ..."_

Sara can hear Sally's voice in the background. At the same time she can hear Diana giving directions to the agents on her end. Peter is negotiating the heavy traffic with consummate skill. It is carefully controlled chaos.

"_Peter."_ Mozzie's unembellished voice startles everyone into momentary silence. _"We're going to get them back; Elizabeth and Neal. We're going to get Keller."_

"I know we are, Mozzie."

ooOoo

"Keller, if you're going to shoot me, could you just go ahead and do it? Get it over with already!" Neal Caffrey and Matthew Keller glare at each other across the empty space in the back of the van in which they are both seated.

"You know what my terms are, Caffrey. I could shoot Mrs. Burke for you, if you're so anxious to have me shoot someone."

"She's not here."

"No she's not. But I do have my phone; that's all I need to do the job." Keller uses the .45 automatic in his right hand to indicate the pocket where his phone currently resides. "You know," he continues easily, "I don't really want to kill her. She's a pretty little thing. And she's got a lot of spunk." Keller absently rubs his leg where Elizabeth kicked him. The gun swings casually back to point at Neal. "Get me the treasure and all your problems are over."

Neal's eyes never leave the large, black weapon. "I don't have the treasure," he says wearily. "I don't know where it is." Since Moz never told him where the he'd moved it to, this isn't even a lie.

The van swerves sharply and both men scramble to keep their balance. Keller's grip on the gun tightens as his irritation grows.

"You know, I'm getting tired of being jerked around by you, Mozzie, Burke, and the whole damn FBI! I don't care who's got it — I want it!"

"I can't give you what I don't have. Mozzie had it; Mozzie moved it. I've done what I can."

"So, do more! With that stash of loot I'm set for life. I pay off the Russians and I disappear. I live like a king for the rest of my life. It's the big score."

Neal notices beads of sweat forming on Keller's upper lip. It's not that warm in the van. Keller is under a lot of stress. Neal decides to see just how far he can push him.

"I don't know what you expect me to do," he says sullenly. "I don't know where it is."

Keller flies across the empty space. "Well, then, I think you better find it. That would be best for you and pretty Elizabeth." He presses the gun so firmly against Neal's carotid artery that the latter can feel it pulsing. He's sure the gun sight is going to leave a bruise where it presses against his jaw bone. Yeah, Keller is pretty stressed. He needs to find a way to use that stress against him.

"Either shoot me or put the gun away, Keller. I can't do anything like this." Neal sounds braver than he actually is. The proximity of the gun is making his heart pound uncomfortably hard.

The van swerves sharply again and Keller is thrown back against the opposite wall. Neal makes a half-hearted grab for the weapon but doesn't connect. Keller rights himself and smiles grimly at him.

"Tsk, tsk, Neal. What happened to those magic hands of yours? But you wouldn't shoot me, would you? You just don't have the balls for it. Now, if your new lady-friend were here she could probably do it. You do pick your friends well."

The two men stare at each other in silence.

"So here's what's gonna happen, Neal. Your friend Mozzie better tell you where that loot is, 'cause then you're gonna take me to it. And you're gonna help me get out of the country. You're good at that, I know. You're good at running away. And then I won't kill Elizabeth Burke. But I am gonna kill you, because I'm sick and tired of you." Keller sounds happy with this plan. "So how's that sound to you" he asks companionably. The look on his face, however, is deadly.

"Sounds great, Keller," Neal agrees sickly. "Now will you please SHUT UP?"

With a satisfied smile, Keller nods his head in agreement. The gun never wavers from its prospective target—Neal's midsection.

Caffrey shuts his eyes, both to shut out Keller's self-satisfied smirk and to heighten his other senses. He can't tell where they are; there are no windows, but from the movement of the van, he can tell they are in a lighter traffic area of Manhattan. He is sure they are still in Manhattan; he hasn't heard the telltale sounds of tires crossing a bridge deck. It smells as if they are near the water; from the sounds of trucks and quite possibly forklifts, they are probably in a warehouse area. He heaves an inward sigh. In recent history, he hasn't had the best of luck with warehouse properties.

All too soon, in Caffrey's opinion, the van skids to a halt. After a brief, unheard conversation with the driver, Keller grabs Neal's arm and yanks him to his feet. He steps out of the van into bright afternoon sunlight. Squinting, he surveys his surroundings. Old, crumbling warehouses surround them. Over the top of one ruin he can make out a single pylon of the Brooklyn Bridge. Has it really been less than 24 hours since he arrived at the Burke house to find Elizabeth gone?

A none-too-gentle pull at his arm reminds him of his current predicament. He looks languidly at Keller.

"So how am I supposed to take you to the treasure, the treasure that I can't find, while you keep me here?" Neal looks around like he doesn't have a care in the world. "Wherever here is," he continues. "This really wasn't very well thought out. I think you're losing your touch, Keller. Too much time in prison?"

Increased pressure on his arm and on the gun in his ribs is the immediate response he receives. Baiting Keller isn't the safest of gambits, but it's all he's got right now.

"Now you're going to call your little buddy and find me my treasure."

"He's not taking my calls."

"I'm sure you'll think of something. You're a clever man."

"I don't have a phone."

"You know, Neal, I'm really getting tired of your stalling. That's why you're here, for a little encouragement."

Keller's driver, a large, rather nasty looking man, pushes Caffrey to the entrance of a ancient, red brick edifice that was probably new at the time of George Washington's inauguration. The sudden shift from bright light to dim causes him to blink and strain his eyes. He senses, rather than sees, the figure restrained in the chair across the room. Then he hears a gasp.

"Neal!"

Her hair is a mess. Her clothes are disheveled, one sleeve torn at the shoulder. She smells vaguely of spaghetti sauce, but her eyes are bright, angry and fixed hopefully on Caffrey.

"Hey, Elizabeth."


	9. Chapter 9

_Previously: Keller, with Neal captive, has taken him to where Elizabeth is being held._

Caffrey—Part 9

"Violence requires no imagination."

_Neal to Keller_ in Bottlenecked

"Neal?" Elizabeth Burke calls out to him again, questioningly this time. Slowly she comes to the realization that he's not here to rescue her. In fact, it seems to her that he might need rescuing himself.

"Elizabeth, I'm really sorry about this." Yeah, that's really going to help, Neal thinks, but at least he said it.

"Alright, Caffrey," Keller says. "You've seen Mrs. Burke and you've seen she's okay. If you want her to stay that way, get me my art."

"I told you I don't know where it is." Strangely enough, that is still the truth. Since Mozzie moved it, Neal has no idea how to find it. Other than to ask Moz.

"Then get on the phone and tell your little buddy you need it. Now." Keller's gun swings slowly from Neal to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth is watching Neal closely.

"Fine. Okay. Give me a phone and I'll call him." Neal's features reveal nothing as he dials the phone Keller hands him.

"Put it on speaker," Keller commands as Neal puts the phone to his ear. Shrugging, he switches the phone to speaker. Holding it between himself and Keller, he waits for the connection.

"_Who is this?"_ Mozzie asks impatiently.

"Moz, it's me. No, don't hang up!" Neal hopes he and Mozzie can sell the supposed animosity between them, just like they planned. Shouldn't be too hard, Neal thinks, since there _is_ a large dose of ill will between the two friends.

"_Neal, we've said all there is to say. I have no desire to talk to you anymore. My future awaits."_

"Mozzie, just listen. I'm here with Keller. He knows about the treasure. He'll kill me if he doesn't get it."

"_You made your choice Neal, and I made mine. I'm sorry, but I'm already long gone."_

Elizabeth's eyes grow wide with alarm. She wriggles her cuffed hands desperately behind her. Neal's eyes slip briefly in her direction and narrow minutely. He sees two open paperclips on the floor beneath her bound hands. _Elizabeth Burke knows how to pick a lock?_ Right now he can only hope this is the case.

"Keller is holding Elizabeth Burke hostage." Neal moves slowly toward El. Keller, intent on the conversation, doesn't stop him. "Moz, I know you'll do almost anything for the last big score, but I also know you." Another few steps closer to the chair. "You won't let an innocent suffer, not even for a billion dollars. Mrs. Burke really is an innocent." Neal feels there's no need to let Keller know how close Mozzie and Elizabeth really are.

"_Mrs. Burke?"_ Mozzie says slowly, seemingly on the horns of a thorny dilemma. Good, he's playing along. Neal stops next to Elizabeth's chair, resting his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. Keller, intent on Mozzie's answer, watches the phone in Neal's hand as if he can will the outcome. He pays no heed as Neal's other hand runs gently down El's arm. No one notices when the slim pick he had stashed in hid pant's cuff is dropped into her cupped hand. Neal almost smiles. It's always easiest to complete a task if you have the proper tools.

"C'mon, Mozzie!" Keller says, no longer able to contain himself. The answer to all his problems is so close he can almost touch it. "You don't want to be responsible for the death of this pretty lady. Besides, if she dies, Agent Burke will hunt you for the rest of both of your natural lives."

_Mozzie, seal the deal!_ Neal thinks wildly. Now he's staring at the phone.

"_I should have had you killed when I had the chance!"_ Mozzie states regretfully.

The sound of the Keller cocking the gun fills the silence surrounding them.

"Mozzie!" Neal yells, unable to keep the fear out of his voice, the horror out of his eyes.

"_You win, Keller." _Mozzie's voice is filled with defeat. _"Meet me in one hour — the base of Queen's Wharf."_

"That's great, Mozzie. That gives me just enough time to clean things up here." Keller grabs the phone from Neal's grasp, flinging it to the floor and stamping on it for good measure.

ooOoo

"Did you get it?"

The look Sally gives Mozzie is reminiscent of one of Caffrey's looks; the one that says 'you even need to ask?'

"Tell Peter they're east of South Street near the Wall Street pier."

"Which building?

Sally's fingers fly over the keys. "I'm working on it."

ooOoo

"_Suit, you need to get everyone there as fast as you can! Keller says he's got just enough time to, and I quote, 'clean things up.' "_

Sara's heart beats an uncomfortable, uneven rhythm as Mozzie's words fill the passenger compartment of the Taurus. Sara risks a glance at Peter, trying to gauge his response to this news. His face shows no emotion, though the reflected colors of the gumball light now flashing on the dashboard give him an oddly distorted appearance.

The car lurches forward in response to increased pressure from Peter's foot. Sara clings tightly to the armrest with one hand, the dash with the other, all pretense of bravery forgotten. She hangs on for dear life as Peter maneuvers through traffic.

"Mozzie, which warehouse are they in?" There is no emotion in the agent's voice. Only a certain tightness betrays his tension.

"_We're trying to pinpoint it, Suit." _Sara can hear rapid keystrokes in the background, then a muffled "_damn."_

"Mozzie, let me know as soon as you get it. I'm going to brief Diana." The press of a button disconnects the call.

"Sara, get through to Diana." The car swerves around a corner, barely missing a taxi. Sara realizes she's going to have to let go of something in order to dial the other agent. It's a daunting task, but she bravely peels her hand off the dashboard to locate the number on the screen.

ooOoo

Diana's car winds it's way through lower Manhattan traffic using many of the same maneuvers Peter Burke is using. Jones is in the seat next to her, seemingly unperturbed by the erratic journey. Agent Blake has folded himself uncomfortably into the backseat. It's a small space for a tall man, but he doesn't complain. He only wants to catch Keller.

The three agents look at the dashboard screen as it chimes an incoming call. It's Agent Burke.

"Boss?" Diana asks as she answers the call. "Do we know where Keller is?"

"_Sally traced them to a warehouse east of South at the Wall Street pier."_

Diana cuts in front of a produce delivery truck to make a sharp right toward the piers.

"Which warehouse?"

"_Sally's working on it."_

"I'll get backup and SWAT heading in that direction."

"_I'll contact you as soon as I know more."_

ooOoo

"Which warehouse is it? The suits need to know." Behind the thick lenses, Mozzie's eyes are intent on Sally's profile. He can see the muscles of her jaw working in sympathetic rhythm with her tapping fingers.

"I can't get an exact location since the phone went offline."

"But you can hack into the cameras at the pier, right?" Mozzie's voice wavers between confidence in Sally's skills and fear of what Keller might be doing at this moment.

"Their system is so archaic," Sally says with disgust. Suddenly she slaps the table in frustration. "I can't get in! I have to get my hands on the main terminal there."

Turning her head, she meets his horrified face straight on.

"Mozzie, we need a car."

ooOoo

Dom Santucci looks up from the logbook he's studying at the sound of sirens approaching. He rolls his eyes in tired frustration as the first of the black SUVs screams past his foreman's shack; heading toward the older buildings further south. He wonders vaguely why the Feds have got their knickers in a knot this time. Drugs, maybe? He sighs, wondering what this world is coming to. There used to be an occasional mob raid, for form sake, since everyone knew it was the mob that kept the docks running smoothly. But now, drug dealing and human trafficking seem to dominate his world of warehouses and docks. _There is just no honor amongst thieves anymore._ He goes wearily back to his logbook as the SWAT van flies by. He hopes no one gets shot in this raid.

A loud, emphatic pounding on the door to his tiny office drags Dom from his reverie. A tall, attractive woman in jeans and a nicely clinging tank top is looking in through the glass. She glances off to her left before gracing the foreman with a half smile. As she brushes the blonde streak of hair back to join its darker fellows, he gets the feeling she doesn't waste her smiles on just anyone. He offers a tentative wave, inviting her in.

"I need to use your computer," Sally states without preamble.

"What?" Dom's eyes flick to the table in the corner where a desktop computer sits, shrouded under a brittle plastic sheet. A thick layer of dust betrays its lack of use.

Sally's eyes follow his. A look of disgusted disbelief crosses her features. "You aren't using it," she states flatly, "and I need a visual on one of your warehouses."

"No way!" His response is automatic. Dom's eyes narrow then as he regards Sally. Another black SUV careens past the open doorway. "Are you a Fed?" he asks her.

Sally gives an involuntary snort. "Are you crazy?" she responds. "Look, I wouldn't even be here if you had just turned the damn thing on! So let me use it." She reaches over to pull the plastic sheeting off.

"Look, I don't know who the hell you are, lady, but nobody messes with my stuff."

"Please," says a voice from the doorway.

Santucci starts and turns at the new voice. Standing in the doorway is a small, bald man wearing thick glasses. "Who are you?" he asks.

Mozzie considers his answer. "I'm the Dentist of Detroit."

Dom's eyes flicker with recognition. He's worked with and around the mob for so long he knows the major players. "I thought you retired."

"You know we don't retire. So, please, let us use the computer."

Plastic crinkles as Sally removes the cover. She coughs at the dust cloud.

You don't mess with the mob, Dom knows. That's how he's kept his job for so long. "Fine, go ahead. Do you need me to leave?"

"No, I can work around you," Sally says distractedly, booting up the elderly machine. She reaches into her bag to pull out some necessary attachments.

"Thank you." Mozzie gives the foreman a tight-lipped smile. He cringes as another Fedmobile whizzes past. "How are you doing?" he asks Sally.

"I'm just about in. There!" Sally points at the monitor. She and Mozzie can now see Elizabeth, Neal, and Keller. Dom Santucci glances at the screen, taking in both the gun and the bound woman. He shrugs, disinterested, and goes back to his log book. You don't mess with the mob.

ooOoo

"You know, Caffrey, I'm glad everything is working out. I'm relieved."

"You have no idea how that makes me feel, Keller." Neal shifts awkwardly on the dirty wooden floor of the warehouse. It's more comfortable than concrete, but somehow the worn, filthy surface seems almost slimy. He supposes it's the mold in the corners. However, his one goal now is to keep all the attention focused on himself, so Elizabeth can work on unlocking the handcuffs unnoticed. A swift, surreptitious glance in her direction reveals a blank face. All her concentration is focused on the minute motions of her two hands. He is watching for signs of her success, so he knows when to create his final distraction.

"I'm pretty sure I know exactly how you're feeling, Caffrey. It makes me feel all warm inside."

Neal just smiles in return. The gun never wavers from its prospective target; well, except to travel between Neal's head and his heart. While he's pleased that his captor seems to have lost interest in Elizabeth, he also doesn't see any opportunity to keep Keller from stopping her escape. Well, not without getting himself shot, anyway. He was kind of hoping to prevent that.

"Okay, gents, that should do it." Keller gives a friendly smile to the two men who have been methodically removing all traces of their 24 hour stay in this abandoned building.

"Anything else you need us to do boss?" the larger of the two men asks.

"Just check to make sure my friend Mr. Caffrey's hands are nice and tight. After the man gives the ziptie around Neal's wrist a final tug, he rejoins his companion.

"So, when do we get paid?"

"Right now."

Keller checks his watch, does a brief mental calculation, then raises the .45.

Elizabeth's eyes focus, first with alarm, then shocked horror, as Keller easily shoots one, then the other, of the two men who had been helping him.

"Okay, that's taken care of," he says calmly, as he turns back to Caffrey. Neal has risen to his feet; he appears speechless.

"Well, Neal, now it's your turn."

ooOoo

Sally and Mozzie stand frozen in front of the archaic monitor as they watch Matthew Keller murder his two henchmen. It looks like neither of the couple is breathing. Then Mozzie lets out a painful gasp.

Before he can speak, or even cry out, Sally grabs his arm with a strength which surprises them both.

"Mozzie, they're in Building 422A; straight down there. Take the car. Go. Now." She points toward the east. Mozzie stares at her uncomprehendingly; then he takes note of the single tear glistening in her lashes. He blinks, then springs into action.

"Call Peter! Call all the suits! Tell them what's happening!" He jumps into the odd little car they arrived in, putting it into gear and heading down the road almost before the door is closed.

Sally has her phone in her hands, but she takes a moment to watch Mozzie leave.

"Be careful," she says quietly, then dials.

ooOoo

The Taurus wheels into the entrance to the Wall Street Pier, then slows to what might be considered a reasonable speed. Now, of all times, Peter doesn't know how to proceed, where to go. Somewhere in this maze of warehouses and containers Matthew Keller is preparing to … to what? Kill Neal? Elizabeth? Steal the treasure? Have lunch? Not knowing is the worst pain of all. No, the worst pain is having no control.

"_Matthew Keller is in Building 422A. He is armed and dangerous. Proceed immediately and with extreme caution."_ The electronic voice of the car's Sync System startles Peter to a sudden stop. By the time a map to Building 422A appears on the GPS, the car is in motion again. One hand leaves the wheel as he punches a button on the dash. Sally and Mozzie have come through.

"Mozzie?" The way Peter says it makes it not so much a question as much as an order.

The female voice that responds surprises him, but the car keeps moving.

"_Mozzie is already heading to the warehouse." _Sally's voice is cool and in control now. _"I've told everyone where Keller is. Just get there."_ A slight quaver makes itself apparent. _"Peter, he killed his two accomplices! Caffrey is there. And your wife. Hurry!"_

"Hold on," Peter barks as the car leaps forward. Sara, her face completely drained of color, finds she can only do as he says.

ooOoo

As he stares at the bodies of the two dead men, sprawled in an unpleasant heap on the warehouse floor, a small part of Neal Caffrey's brain remarks _"Wow, I didn't see that coming."_ A larger portion is screaming _"Run!" _at the top of its voice. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, the part of his brain with the highest I.Q. is telling him to make sure Elizabeth Burke gets out safely, and at all costs.

There is no doubt what is going through Elizabeth's head; terror and anger mingle in a white-faced melange as she struggles frantically against the handcuffs which bind her hands and hold her in the straight-backed chair.

"Neal!" His one syllable name rises on a hysterical note as she cries out.

Keller is distracted from his next task, the murder of Neal Caffrey, by Elizabeth's shriek. He turns and takes several steps in her direction, giving Caffrey time to lurch to his feet. Elizabeth manages to compose her pale features as Keller smiles gently at her.

_Thank God she didn't drop the pick!_ Neal thinks.

"Sorry about that, but sometimes you have to make a bit of a mess in order to really clean things up."

"Keller!" Neal calls out sharply, drawing Keller's scrutiny away from the frightened woman and back to himself. "You said you wouldn't hurt her. You said you would let her go." Neal tries to send Elizabeth a look of calm reassurance. He hopes he succeeds.

"I did say that, didn't I, Caffrey?" He rubs his hand across his nose and mouth, smiling yet again. "I'm nothing if not a man of my word," he intones. "As soon as I'm finished with you and on my way to meet Mozzie, I'll let the Feds know where Mrs. Burke is. And your body."

Elizabeth is again working the pick in the lock to the handcuffs; adrenaline is driving her now. _Good,_ Neal thinks, _she'll be able to get the hell out of here once she's free._

"Are you just going to shoot me, Keller? While I'm trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey? Not very gentlemanly of you."

"You know, I have to agree with you, Caffrey, much as it pains me to say so." Shifting the gun to his left hand, Keller reaches into his pocket. This may be his only chance, Neal realizes. A swift look in Elizabeth's direction reveals another bit of information: she's unlocked the handcuffs. Finally! She looks startled at her own success. He shakes his head at her, the tiniest of motions, to indicate that she should wait. Keller now stands in front him, cutting the tie around his wrists with his pocket knife.

There! What's that? Neal's sharp ears pick up the tiniest of sounds outside the door of what must be the loading bay. Is it wishful thinking? No, there it is again! Even though neither Keller nor Elizabeth notice anything, Neal is sure there is movement outside that door. Rescue is at hand. Neal has witnessed enough FBI raids, from both sides of the law, to be sure they are preparing to storm the building. He just needs to stall a few seconds more.

Unfortunately Elizabeth can't hold on any longer. She shouts something, maybe Keller's name, maybe Neal's, and lunges forward. Keller and his .45 swing around to face her.

Neal surges forward, grabbing the gun, knocking Keller off balance.

"Elizabeth! Run!" The walls of the old building are too thick for the agents outside to hear them, but Neal's certain they are out there. "Run!" he orders again. Elizabeth heads toward the door.

Neal holds the gun, pointing it toward Keller. The captor is now the captive.

Keller straightens up and moves toward Neal. He stops when he sees the gun is pointed at his chest. He only needs a quick glance to see that Neal is quite comfortable handling the weapon. He smiles.

"Hey, Caffrey, are you going to shoot me? I must say I'm impressed. I really didn't think you had it in you." Keller makes a slight move toward Neal, stopping when he realizes the gun does not move. It's still pointed at his heart. "All these years, when I thought you didn't have the balls – and I was wrong. All you needed was the right motivation. You must _really_ want the treasure. My hat's off to you."

Neal doesn't move, not a muscle, but his mind is racing, doing laps and figure-eights with astounding speed. He could end it now, all of it, with one squeeze of the trigger. Keller would be gone, forever. Mozzie would be gone forever, too, but safe and free. Elizabeth would be back with Peter – where she belonged. And he would be where? At this point it really didn't matter where he is. He is just so tired of this.

Keller stands five feet away from him, relaxed, and with that annoying, self-satisfied smile on his face. God how Neal hates that smile! He always has. Elizabeth is by the door, but she stands still, watching with her tear-streaked face and blue eyes blown wide by all the shock and fear she's suffered in the last 24 hours.

And his decision is made. He has no doubt it's the right one.

"Keller, you're wrong, again. You have no idea who I am or what I want or how I think. You keep forgetting, I am nothing like you."

The gun goes flying, behind Neal and across the floor to land in the moldy corner of the old, tired building.

Keller gapes at him in amazed disbelief.

"Neal," Elizabeth yells, "what are you doing?"

Keller makes a move, a single step, and Caffrey springs forward, slamming into the heavier man with a force neither of them believes is possible.

Even though he is fighting as if his life depends on it, it does, after all; Neal can't pin Keller to the wall. After all, Keller is fighting for his life, too, or at least for his freedom, and that gives him added strength. He punches and kicks and scratches, slowly overpowering Caffrey's less-experienced skills.

Neal doubles over from a particularly vicious kick to his midsection as the doors burst open and SWAT agents stream in, followed closely by Agents Burke, Berrigan, Jones, and Blake. Neal is too far gone to be aware that the cavalry has finally arrived. Keller is not. He grabs Caffrey roughly and hurls him headfirst into the brick wall of the warehouse. As Neal topples to the floor, Keller runs for the now open door. Agent Blake's long legs move him forward with remarkable speed, and he catches the fugitive in an impressive tackle, pinning him to the ground. Jones is there immediately, holding Keller down as Blake cuffs him.

Keller looks at the agents with bleary eyes as they haul him to his feet. Blood runs down his face from an obviously broken nose. SWAT surrounds him with enough firepower to take out the Taliban. His eyes move to Caffrey, crumpled and still on the ground. Agent Berrigan stands next to the prone figure, calling for the medics.

"Did I kill him?" Keller asks expectantly. "I really hope I killed him."

"Sorry Keller," Diana answers. "You didn't get him. You lose, Keller. You lose it all."

ooOoo

Sara Ellis enters the old warehouse almost fearfully, unsure of what she will see. She knows she shouldn't be here; she's certain Hughes will throw her out when he finds her here. But she has to see; she has to know.

Peter and Elizabeth Burke stand to one side, wrapped in such a fierce embrace they appear to be one single entity rather than two people. Agents Blake and Jones hold Matthew Keller in an unyielding grasp; two SWAT agents stand close by, ready to help if they are needed. Diana stands by the broken down doorway, radio in hand, waiting to guide the paramedics in.

There on the floor, unmoving, is the object of her search. Caffrey. Kneeling next to him is Mozzie,_ Mozzie?_, one hand on his friend's shoulder. Sara's hand moves of its own volition to her mouth as she gasps. Is he dead? Mozzie makes eye contact with her; offers her a faint smile. With a slight motion of his head, he invites her over. She hurries across the space, her heart pounding. As she kneels on the worn wooden floor, Mozzie stands, gives her one last look, and slips away.

No, Neal isn't dead, but he is out cold. One side of his face is covered in blood from a nasty gash on the side of his head. His eye is black and blue and swollen shut. His breath comes in short, ragged gasps as if he's still fighting his battle with Keller. She takes hold of his hand and waits as the paramedics make there way over.

He remains unnervingly still as the medics hook him to IVs and monitors, but his eyelids flutter and he moves feebly as they transfer him to a stretcher. She holds his hand tighter, trying to reassure him, as they take him to the waiting ambulance, then watches as they load him in.

Sara feels eyes on her and looks over to see Peter, still clasping his wife firmly. His eyes are on her, though, watching as the ambulance leaves. She smiles the same small smile at him that Mozzie gave her, answering the agents unspoken question. Neal is alive.

She catches a glimpse of Mozzie, standing at the far edge of the scene. Next to him is a tall, dark-haired woman. That must be Sally – the Vulture. Well, she wasn't what Sara expected! She gives the couple a thumbs-up, then waves as they disappear as if they were never there.

A flurry of movement draws her attention back to the warehouse. They are taking Keller away, still under heavy guard. As the group walks by, he gives her a curious look, like he can't quite figure what she's doing there.

"Keller," she raises her voice to make sure he can hear her. Keller raises an eyebrow in query.

"What ever box they are going to lock you in, you can be sure you're never getting out again." She gives him her most devastating smile.


	10. Chapter 10

**Caffrey – **Epilogue

"Choices are sacrifices."

_Jones to Neal _in As You Were

Sara Ellis, you are a workaholic, she tells herself. She grabs a manilla file folder from the carton on the table in front of her and flips it open. She reaches for the cup of coffee next to her as she reads. The rising sun behind her lights the fiery colors in her auburn hair. She would love to blame Sterling Bosch for the reams of case files in front of her but is willing to acknowledge that she brought this on herself. She needs to keep her mind occupied, at least for now.

Her phone vibrates noisily on the hard surface of the table. She quickly grabs for it to silence it, sneaking a quick glance through the French doors into the room beyond. Seeing no movement, she checks the phone. It's a text, quickly read and answered.

_How is he?_

_Doing better. Sleeping now._

_Thank you, Sara._

_You're welcome, Peter._

Sara smiles at her phone as she places it back on the table. It's progress, she thinks. Slow, but it is progress. Peter cares; soon he'll be able to show it again. She grabs another file and her mug.

The sun is an hour higher in the sky when movement from the other room draws her concentration from her laptop. She snaps the device shut and heads through the French doors. Neal is standing at the kitchen table, lightly holding one of the chairs for balance. Or for support, Sara isn't sure which. She stops a few feet away, far enough away not to be hovering but close enough to reach out a steadying hand, just in case.

"How're you doing?" The question is casual, unconcerned.

"I'm fine." Neal is obviously tired of the question.

"You were a little shaky when you came home last night."

"I'm fine," he repeats tightly.

"Okay." Sara pauses to rethink her approach. Neal obviously is not fine. White medical tape tightly binds his torso, not quite covering the purple bruises. His handsome face is bruised as well; one eye is partially swollen shut. An elastic bandage supports his right wrist. Neal Caffrey is not a fighter, she thinks. But as a lover . . . Okay, not the time to go there right now.

It's probably best not to aggravate the wounded warrior. This isn't a normal morning, but she can pretend it is if it makes him feel better.

"Want some coffee? June brought up a fresh pot a little while ago." Sara mutely holds up the coffee pot, smiling idiotically like a model from some 1950's commercial for Folgers Coffee. Neal nods his head in affirmation and slowly makes his way out onto the terrace, carefully sitting at the table covered in Sara's work. She pours his coffee and brings it outside. She sets it down and returns to her files, diligently ignoring him.

"Sara, why are you doing this?"

Why is she doing this? Because three days ago – three days ago she thought he was dead, and that belief nearly destroyed her. Her mind replays the scene with vivid clarity: Jones and Blake restraining a cuffed and bleeding Keller, Diana on her radio calling for backup, Peter and Elizabeth in an embrace so fierce they appear as one. And Mozzie crouching over the bloody, motionless form of Neal Caffrey. Then Mozzie's eyes meeting hers in mute supplication: _take care of him!_

Why is she doing this? She can't tell him it's because Mozzie asked her to. It's more than that. Because Neal called her? Because he said he needed her? That is closer to the truth, but now isn't the time. She isn't ready to look there yet.

"I figure in your weakened condition I've got a chance at getting the location of the Raphael out of you."

Neal's eyes flare with irritation. He sits up straighter. "Really?" he asks.

Sara looks blandly back at him, saying nothing. The irritation fades, to be replaced with amusement. A smile quirks the corners of his lips.

"Really, Repo?" The smile broadens, lighting his battered face.

That smile. It's been a while since she's seen that smile. She welcomes it back. "_You're a conman – you smile for a living." _ It seems a lifetime ago she said that to him. So much has happened since then; so much has changed. She's changed, and he's changed. Not much, maybe not enough, but it's a start.

"You had a concussion … and other things." Sara's eyes travel along his battered body. "You shouldn't be alone yet."

Neal's smile fades as quickly as it appeared. "What happened, did you draw the short straw? Are there Marshals outside?" His voice is bitter now, but underneath she can hear regret, and a little fear. She wonders if he thinks he's lost them all.

"I want to be here." She makes her voice strong and reassuring. She does want to be here, after all. For now. For him. What comes later? They'd work that out later.

"Peter checks in pretty frequently. He wants to know how you're doing." Sara hopes she can relieve some of the emotional ache she knows Neal feels, at least a little. "Elizabeth called late last night." Neal had been in a drug induced sleep at the time.

"How did she seem? Is she okay?" His guilt rears up again.

"She sounded good. She was worried about you." She did sound good, Sara thinks. "That is one tough woman," she says admiringly.

Neal slowly sips his coffee. He needs to eat, Sara thinks maternally, but he hasn't shown much interest. Now he slowly struggles to his feet and makes his way to the wall, looking out over the cityscape. She's seen him just this way so many times. And Mozzie.

"I think Mozzie checked on you last night."

Neal turns around so fast he lets out an involuntary gasp of pain. "Mozzie? You _think _it was Mozzie?"

Sara moves abruptly, ready to steady him, then casually sits back at the table again. She knows Neal needs to stand alone right now. She sees both desperation and hope in his blue eyes.

"You think?" he repeats.

"Well, it is Mozzie we're talking about. I had an unsigned, untraceable email last night, asking if you are okay and asking how Mrs. Suit is."

"That sounds like Mozzie," is all he says, but relief and a hint of amusement color his features.

"Neal, it may take a long time, but I think we're all going to get past this." That's all she can offer him right now, but Sara believes what she says.

"Yeah." Neal sounds doubtful, but hopeful. That's all he can do.

"Do you want some breakfast?" She hopes he does.

"Are you going to cook?" he challenges teasingly.

"I can cook, you know, Caffrey."

"Okay." He turns back to the city as Sara heads to the kitchen.

A week from now, she wonders, where will any of them be? But right this minute, everyone is where they should be. That will have to do.

_Finis_


End file.
